


Without You I Am Lost

by tragicama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicama/pseuds/tragicama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come into the light.” Stiles demands, wanting to see who he will be forced to spend forever with. Hesitant, the figure obliges, stepping into the skylight and taking off his hood.</p><p>Stiles watches as he reveals himself, gasping as he sees multiple scars litter the man’s face. He falls back towards John, stunned at the man’s features, and watches as he fully reveals himself. He sees the man’s teeth extended to a point, and his eyes are glowing a deep red. His teeth return back to normal a moment later, and his eyes dim, the red turning into the most beautiful mix of colors. They seem to be green, but when the light catches they look blue, and at a different angle they look golden. Stiles is drunk on the mesmerizing irises, for they are the most beautiful eyes Stiles has ever seen.</p><p>Or, the Beauty and the Beast AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You I Am Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Because every fandom needs the Beauty and the Beast AU. Enjoy.
> 
> Unbeta'd so feel free to point out any mistakes. I apologize in advance for errors.

On a dreadful night on Hallow’s Eve in a warm October evening, sixteen year-old Prince Derek of Beacon Hills was pacing casually amongst the halls of his castle. The weather outside the stone was awfully hot, and he couldn’t seem to find comfort in his warm blankets. His heavy-set footprints were the only sound that could be heard in the silence. His servants were fast asleep in their beds, the only ones inhabiting the castle besides the young prince.

The astound Hale family were all burned to death in a gathering held in the West Wing, when Prince Derek was away tending to other needs in the town. The arsonist had been caught and the peasant woman, Kate Argent, was know dead after she had come forward and admitted to the crimes. She had claimed that she wanted their riches, but never got her wish after she was arrested. The young prince was know alone, with only the aid of his servants to try and guide him through his ways.

He stood in the middle of the hallway, gazing forlornly at a picture of his sister, Princess Laura, and shuddered as he was hit with a wave of sadness. He missed his sister deeply, and wished she was here to help guide him through his insomnia. The insomnia started after the murder of Kate Argent, and it kept him awake most nights. When he did manage to sleep, he was plagued with nightmares of his family’s death, and deeply wished he could of somehow stopped the horrid dreams.

His gaze was torn away when he heard the sound of a knock echo through the hallway, and sighed as he made his way down the stairs. He would have to be the one to answer the door, for all his servants were in their chambers.  
As the prince walked to the door, opening it slightly, he was revealed to a wretched looking woman. She had warts covering her pale face, and she was dressed in a dark black cloak. She slouched slightly, bracing a wooden tree-like cane. Her bright green eyes gazed into his as she stepped closely to converse with him.

Prince Derek was repulsed with her looks, and made a move to step back as she stepped forward. “Kind, sir, would you please allow me to stay for the night? My carriage has broken, and I do not have a way to return home. In exchange for your kindness, I will offer you this rose.”

Her voice was scratchy, as if she had swallowed nails. She produced a beautiful rose to the prince, who took another step back. He was very disgruntled by her appearance, and did not want this woman to enter his home. Derek stood against the door, not knowing how to approach the situation. He didn’t want the woman to come near, so he decided to say, “I will not allow a woman such as you to stay here.”

The woman recanted, taken aback by his bluntness and stepped back. Her face suddenly mixed into an angry expression, and she shouted, “Why not?”

“I do not wish for you to enter my home.” The prince replied.

The woman looked to him again, the angry expression still on her face. “You will wish you had let me into your castle, prince. Appearances are not always as they seem.” She took another step back, crushing down and pulling her hood down around her entire face. Suddenly, she started to scream, and her flesh began to melt off her face. All the warts, moles and any other imperfect wrinkles slid onto the walkway in front of her, and she continued to scream. Derek watched the entire encounter with a horrified face, compiled to keep the door open to see the scene in front of him.

The woman’s screams began to die down, and she pulled her hood off to reveal beautiful black hair. It was curled in front of her face, and it fell loosely to her waist. She moved the hair out of her peripheral vision, stepping around the melted flesh, and revealed her true complexion.

She was gorgeous. She had to have been the most prettiest woman the young prince had ever seen. All traces of the woman before her were gone. Her stunning green eyes pierced into his, and she smiled wickedly. Her facial features were covered in light freckles, and Derek blushed slightly at her beauty, the woman before him smirking as she saw the reaction out of him.

“You should have let me into your castle.” The woman said in a soft voice, the previous scratchy tone nonexistent.

"I am terribly sorry, my lady. Please, come in - “ The prince tried to apologize, taken aback by her beauty, but was interrupted by the woman.

“It is too late for that, prince.”

“No, please, I am so sorry. Come in - “ He tried again, but to no avail. The woman raised her hands at him, putting the rose away, muttering under her breath as she walked closer. He was starting to become frightened at the way she was muttering, quickly and very precise. She circled her hands in different motions as she walked back and forth, circling him. 

The prince started to feel winded and quickly grabbed at his chest, falling to his knees. She circled him then, muttering loudly as the warm night air enfolded them. His chest constricted in pain as his whole body felt as though it was on fire. He crouched in on himself, yelling as the fire within him grew stronger.

He felt his fangs start to extend and descend, and his claws started to sprout out as he screamed in pain. The woman continued to chant, stopping in front of his face. He looked up at her, feeling his eyes glow a deep red as she smirked.

“You witch!! What have you done to me!?” The prince shouted, feeling his body become weakened at the amount of pain he felt.

The witch cackled, “You are forever in your state of ugliness. You have become the beast you have shown me. No one will dare love you know, prince. You are so horrid to look at. I have never seen something so atrocious. . .”

The prince wanted to growl at her, but she continued on, “If you cannot see people for who they really are, you will stay like this forever. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, prince.” She moved her cloak out of the way and produced the perfectly grown red rose. She laid it down in front of him, saying, “If you find someone to fall in love with you before this rose dies, you will return back to normal. If you do not, you will remain like this forever.”

This time the prince did growl, and stood to his feet. He tried to lunge at her, but she pushed him back with the sheer force of her magic. “You better get started, prince!”

She pushed him back against the wall, and with one last smirk, she vanished. The sound of her cackling echoed off the stone walls, and the prince sunk down to the ground. He grabbed the rose, bending the stem. He wanted nothing more than to crush the entire thing, but thought better of it as the stem healed itself and fell back into place. He didn’t know that would happen if he did crush it.

He walked back inside slamming the door behind him, and rushing to look in the mirror. He grabbed at his hand mirror, taking in the sight of his face. He had scars wrapped in all directions on his face and his eyes bled red when he thought of the witch. If he tried hard enough, he could make his claws and fangs appear like he had done so many times before. The witch was right, he looked absolutely hideous.

And know he was cursed to forever be alone, for who could ever love a beast like him?

-

A darkening cloud sets over the Grand Castle and the servants are all turned into household items in the wake of the witch’s spell. The rose continues to remain alive for the next eight years, but it seems to begin withering away. All the enchanted objects wish to be human again, for the beast to break the spell. Having grown bitter at his looks and inability to never love, the beast remains locked in his castle, wallowing in his misery of never being able to find love again.

-

Stiles sits on the fountain, reading one of his favorite books. The townspeople buzz around him, busying themselves with the street market. His fellow townspeople are selling animal skins, bread, and other assortments of objects. He’s sitting right in the middle of town, where he likes to watch as the people murmur around him, casually reading his book.

Stiles knows the townsfolk call him odd, that they see him as a freak for reading books and beings intelligent. They frown upon him for not being a hunter, or a salesman, but he enjoys the books too much to stop, and doesn’t care what the town has to say about him. Day after day, he sits at the fountain and reads, watching the people around him occasionally and shopping around the market. His father is busy with his new experiments and inventions, so he likes to just be by himself most of the time.

He closes his book, finishing yet another novel and stands up while grabbing his basket. He has to buy some bread and logs for his father, so he stashes his book in the basket and makes his way down the dirt market roads. The bread he likes the most is down by the bookstore so Sties figures he can make a quick stop in to see if they have any new ones. As he buys the logs, he watches as he sees Monsieur Raeken walk down the center of the road, his hunting rifle perched on his shoulder as his sidekick, Josh, follows behind him. He watches as a few women exclaim at his presence, and they follow him as he makes his way into the tavern, the select women following after him. Stiles hasn’t a clue as to why the local hunter is held to such high esteem, seeing as he’s such a narcissistic bastard, but Stiles doesn’t understand the townspeople anyway.

He purchases the bread next, walking next door and into the library. He smiles as he greets the bookkeeper, Mr. LeMar, and approaches his desk. “Do you have any new arrivals today, Mr. LeMar?”

“Not since yesterday, lad.” Mr. LeMar replies, shaking his head.

“That’s okay, sir. I think I’ll just take this one.” Stiles says, grabbing the first book on top of the stack on Mr. LaMar's desk.

“But you have already read that twice, my boy!” The bookkeeper elaborates, grinning at Stiles.

“But it is my favorite, Mr. LeMar. I love how this book can take me somewhere else. It’s like I am one of the characters myself.” Stiles says, hugging the book to his chest.

“Well in that case, it is yours, lad.”

“Oh, but Mr. LeMar, I could not take this from you!”

“Go on my boy, take it.” Mr. LaMar says, smiling at the boy. Stiles grins back, thanking Mr. LeMar as he leaves the bookstore. He holds his basket close to his body, shuffling through the market as he walks through the stands. He admires a couple of items as he walks towards his home, his brown clothes picking up slight dirt as the surrounding horses throw it around.

He walks past the bar on his way to his home, but stops suddenly when a shout of, “Stiles!” is called. He turns to see Monsieur Raeken calling his name, two women on his left arm and one on his right. They seem to be fawning over him, looking to Stiles with envy.

“Stiles, another book again?” Raeken asks, coming to walk closer to his affection.

“Yes, Raeken. I like to read these books. You do not?” Stiles replies, rolling his eyes.

“Who needs books when you have looks?” Reason supplies, which causes a giggle to come out of the three girls. He reaches out, grabbing the book from Stiles.

“Oh, I see. Why have looks when you can have a brain?” Stiles mutters, and louder he says, “Raeken, please give me my book back.”

“How can you read this? There are no pictures!” Raeken asks, handing Stiles his book with an exaggerated wink.

“Well, some people use their imaginations.” Stiles replies ignoring the man and dusting off the book.

"Stiles, it is about time you get your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things, like me!! The whole town is talking about it.” Stiles scoffs, and the three women on Raeken’s arm sigh. “It is not right for a man to just read. Soon, they start getting ideas, and thinking.”

“Raeken, you are positively primeval.” Stiles replies.

“Why thank you, Stiles. Hey, would you like to go talk a walk with me over to the tavern and have a look at my hunting trophies?” He asks, smiling widely.

“Maybe some other time, Raeken.” Stiles replies, turning to walk away. The three women scoff at him, muttering ‘What’s wrong with him?’, ‘You’re crazy!’, and ‘Raeken is gorgeous!’

Raeken moves to stop him, ignoring the obvious dismissal, “Oh, Stiles. Do not go just yet.”

“I must get back to my father, Raeken, what do you possibly want?” Stiles asks, sighing deeply.

“Your father? Is that crazy lunk still making inventions? Those silly things are pointless!” Reaken supplies, laughing at himself as the girls join in.

Out of nowhere, Josh comes up behind Raeken then, exclaiming, “That loon! His inventions will never work!”

“Do not say that about my father!” Stiles says, turning away again.

“Yes, Josh! Do not say that about his father!” Raeken says, shoving him. Stiles turns back around. “Now, Stiles. We know these inventions are never going to work, so let’s say you and me go down to the tavern, yeah?”

“Do not say that Raeken. His inventions are magnificent! It is you who is doltish!” Stiles says, turning away from Raeken.

“Oh, my sincere apologies, Stiles.” Raeken replies, chuckling at his sarcasm. Stiles huffs and turns away once more, tired of him making fun of him and his father, and ignores Raeken’s calls of him to come back. He knows he is the one who Raeken has decided to give his affections to, but he does not wish to be and does not reciprocate the foolish feelings. Raeken can continue to try and win Stiles’s heart, but it will never work.

As he walks home, he thinks about the stares of the townspeople that he often receives. The use of the term freak always makes Stiles furious. He is not odd or weird, he just likes to read. It is not a shame that he does not like to hunt or refuses to own a shop. Some people were just not meant to live up to certain expectations, but Stiles feels as though he has lived up to his own. In all of his seventeen years of life, he has been proud of who he is, and knows his place in the world, so how dare one of the townsfolk mock him for that?  
Stiles can’t help but to feel lonely, however. Being the town freak does come with a price, so he does not essentially have many friends or potential suitors knocking. Well, except for Raeken. But, alas, that will never happen. Stiles quite likes his life without having primeval barbarian-brained, egomaniac lunkheads in his forte.

He’s shared his loneliness with his father before, to which he replies that once he sells his inventions, they are going to start a new life, away from the town of Beacon Hills. Stiles will be able to find someone who loves him for who he is inside, and not try to change him. Stiles is never held to such esteem in this town, but maybe he will be in another. He can only hope.  
He reaches his home, a small cottage away from the town where it’s very quiet and peaceful. Stiles loves where he and his father reside. He likes to sit on tree stumps and read his books, or help out his father with his inventions. It’s very silent where they live, so no townsfolk can judge them out there.

As he opens the door to his home, he is met with the sight of his father bending over his new latest invention, a wood-chopping machine that turns logs into astounding essentials.  
His father turns to greet him, “Hello, my boy! Did you get the logs?”

Stiles nods and retrieves the logs, “Hello. I did, father. I also got another book and your bread.”

John chuckles, “Another book? Have you not read that entire library yet?”

“I can only hope!” Stiles replies, going to turn on the stove and prepare dinner.

“How was the market, lad?” His father’s voice is muffled as he perfects various assortments around the machine, but Stiles can still hear him.

“Monsieur Raeken and I had another encounter today. I really wish that egomaniac hunter would let me be.” Stiles replies, pulling out ingredients for his delicious potato soup.

“All in good time, my boy. Are you ready to see if this will work?” John says, his eyes shining bright with pride. He really wishes this machine will work so he and his boy can get out of this town, and to start over where they are not perceived as freaks. The machine itself doesn’t look so great, with multiple wires and springs sticking out of it, and the gears on full display, but it will have to work.

Stiles nods to his father’s question, and turns to watch as he places two logs in the opening hatch. He turns the machine on with a match, the fire illuminating the machine to life. The gears start working in sync as the springs ascend and descend, and the logs slowly disappear from Stiles’s sight. The machine emits a metallic sound every once in a while, but slowly, a clock forms in the ending hatch as his father goes to retrieve it.

“Oh father, it’s wonderful! You are sure to receive first prize at the fair tomorrow.” Stiles says, standing up and going to lightly hug his father. John smiles at his son, hugging him back.

“We will become rich, my boy. We will finally get out of this town and start new lives.” He supplies.

Stiles sighs, “We will, father.” He moves to continue cooking his soup, the shuffling in his pocket suddenly making him remember the small item there. “Oh, father. Before you go tomorrow, I wanted to give this to you.”

Stiles pulls out the watch he had seen earlier in the market, and hands it to his father. The watch is engraved, and it simply reads “Those who follow, succeed.” When he saw it, it reminded him of John, and decided to purchase it for him as a parting gift and to let him know to be safe.

“Thank you so much, Stiles. I will forever keep this in my pocket. I love you, son.” John says, ruffling Stiles’s brown locks.

“I love you, too, father.” Stiles replies, and with that, they sit down to enjoy a lovely meal before John leaves for the fair to the next day, unaware that his next encounter would change both he and Stiles’s lives.

-

John rides through the forest, the rick-rack of his machine the only sound heard echoing off the trees. The horse steadily walks, the pitter-patter of his feet alerting John of the toll this trip has taken. He must of missed the trail leading up North where the fair is being held, because he is utterly lost in this dark forest. He does not know where he is, and the night is becoming colder as the shrill winter air sets in.

He continues on, despite his growing worry. Earlier that morning, Stiles had given him some food for his trip, consisting of some bread and seeds, and John had set about. he had been traveling through the forest for what seemed to be hours, and he was growing very tired. An old man such as he shouldn’t be out in these conditions, and it was starting to become evident.

The horse marches through a muddy trail, the cart holding his invention ticketing. He’s starting to become scared, fearing what the night brings. John knows that the woods aren’t precisely safe, and has been told many times that danger lurks in the dreaded forest. It’s dark here, and he can barely see the trail he is traveling on, and wouldn’t be able to see his hand if he stuck it out in front of him. It seems to be foggy out, which only adds to the pending dreadfulness.

A shrill howl pierces through the trees then, causing the horse and John to jump. Wolves were not common in their town, but that did not mean they didn’t reside on the outskirts of Beacon Hills.

The horse stumbled into a clearing, dragging the machine behind. John glanced around anxiously, patting the horse in reassurance when he started to slowly neigh. Another howl sounded through the clearing, startling John even more. His stare blazed through every ounce of the forest then, trying to pick up on what was happening in the woods. The horse started to neigh pitifully, moving as though a snake would come out and bite him.

John’s eyes cautiously drew around the forest, and they were caught on an astounding glow. Two golden lights break through the fog, and they seem to be growing brighter. John stumbled on top of the horse, wanting desperately to turn around. The glowing circles became brighter as they move toward him, and the foggy weather seemed to be clearing as they drew near.

The horse began trying to back away, but he stumbled as he hit something on his side. John froze, turning to see another pair of illuminating lights, but this time saw a dark blue instead of golden. From the part of his leg that was bare from his britches being too short, he felt cold fur scrape over the skin, making goosebumps appear.

He stumbled back, pulling the horse with him, when the fog cleared just enough for him to see what touched him. The wolf growled lowly, circling lightly in John’s sight. Another wolf came over to join the one with the blue eyes, and both stared at him. He stood frozen on top of his horse, trying not to allude to his presence. He knew wolves considered humans a threat, and didn’t want them to think he was intruding on their territory.

The horse neighed in distress, and that seemed to be the only thing the wolves needed. The lunged in sync, knocking the horse over and John with it. The cart holding the machine tipped over, and the pieces broke is it collided with the ground. John looked at it with pain, all of his work on this machine was now wasted. A growl of a wolf startled him however, and he rose to his feet to see the golden eyed one devouring his horse. John gagged quietly, stunned at the boldness of this wolf.

The dark blue eyed wolf stared at him then, and slowly began to walk closer. John backed away then, not wanting to end up like his horse, and broke out into a run. he believed that if he would have stayed, he would be devoured by these wolves, and he couldn’t take that chance.

He ran through the clearing and into the trees, hearing the howls of the two wolves behind him. John knew he couldn’t outrun these wolves, so he decided to look for a place for shelter. He hurriedly glanced around the forest, trying to find anything to hide in, and saw the tops of a stone castle. He sprinted towards it, not wanting the wolves to get to him.

He came upon the entrance of the castle, and quickly thought of how beautiful it seemed to be. A growl scared him, however, and he remembered that the wolves were chasing him. They must of been closer than he thought, so taking a leap of faith, he approached the entrance and began knocking repeatedly.

“Help! Is someone there?”

As no one answered the door, John decided then in this moment of dire need, he needed to open the door now if he wanted to escape these wolves. He opened the heavy mahogany door, closing it behind himself as he slipped past the entrance. He heard the wolves crashing against the door as he leaned against the other side, trying to catch his breath.

He turned and put the heavy metal lock down, backing away from the door as he heard the wolves scratch at it. They were whimpering, apparently disappointed at having lost a perfect dinner.

John turned from the door and glanced at his surroundings. His previous thought still stood; this castle was quite beautiful. The large stone walls were covered in purple cloth, and each one had a golden cursive ‘H’ inscribed into it. He saw empty armor stood up to look like nights guarding the castle as he made his way down the hallway. Beautiful chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, and John couldn’t help wondering who this castle belonged to. He remembered the royal Hale family living here in Beacon Hills, but he thought they had all died in a tragic fire that took the lives of eleven that horrid night.

“Hello?” John calls again, hoping to lure someone out.

Coming to the end of the hallway, John sees a grand staircase that reached from wall to wall that was covered in the beautiful purple cloth beforehand. He turned right from the staircase, still wondering aimlessly around to try and see if anyone was home. The castle looked as though it was in great condition, so someone had to have been taking care of the magnificent abode.

He entered the foyer, and seeing a seemingly cozy chair, he walked closer to it and sat down. A fire was burning in the fireplace before him, and he welcomes the heat as he leans further into the chair.

From across the room, Scott, a candelabra, mutters , “Old fellow must have lost his way in the woods.”

Isaac, the wooden clock and the head of household whispers back, “Keep quiet! Maybe he will go away!”

John turns around, looking back across at a nearby table. “Is someone there?” Scott and Isaac freeze as they hear his voice, not wanting to give away their presence.

Isaac looks to Scott, “Not a word, Scott. Not one word!”

John stands then, looking around the room. He swears he can hear their voices, but he doesn’t see anyone in the room. “I don’t mean to intrude, but my horse and I were attacked by wolves and I need a place to stay for the night.”

Scott looks to Isaac then, pleading, “Oh Isaac, have a heart, my love. This man clearly needs our help.”

“Sh! We mustn't give away who we are.” Isaac shushes, putting his hand over the candelabra’s mouth. Scott huffs, then proceeds to promptly touch his lit candle end to Isaac’s hand. “Ow ow ow!!”

“I am sorry, darling. But we cannot sit idly by and watch as this poor man needs help.” Louder this time, Scott yells, “Of course, Monsieur! You are welcome here!”

John jumps back, worriedly looking around the dimly lit room, “Who’s there? Who said that?” Walking over to the table, he sees the lit candlestick, and proceeds to pick it up to try and shine light around the room. Someone must be playing a joke on him, and it is not funny.

Scott smiles, realizing he is in the visitor’s hand, and pokes him on the shoulder. “Over here!”

John turns around, facing the entrance of the foyer, shining the light so he can see clearly. “Where?”

Scott chuckles at the old man, and pokes him again. Slowly, John looks down at the candlestick, “Hello!”

John screams, dropping the candelabra on the ground. Scott huffs again, standing up and glaring at John. John drops to the ground, inspecting Scott excitedly. “How peculiar! This is incredible!”

Isaac jumps down from the table then, coming to stand by his lover, who puts his unlit candle end around the clock, “Well, now you have done it, Scott. Just peachy - what the - hey!”

Isaac yells as John grabs him, picking him up to get a closer look. The inventor finds these items amazing, and doesn't understand how these random household items are talking to him. “What are you? How is this accomplished?”

“Put me down, you old man! Right now!” Isaac screams, wiggling around to try and get out of John’s grip. John drops him to the ground, causing Isaac to fall flat on his face. Muttering under his breath, Isaac stands and walks back over to Scott, who is giggling.

“Pardon me, it's just that I have never seen a clock that can talk! Or a candlestick for that matter! How does this - ah - ahem - how does - ahh ahh ahh choo!” John tries to say, sneezing in Isaac’s face. Isaac stumbles back, hurriedly wiping the snot away in anachronistic windshield wiper motions. Scott laughs where he stands, earning a not-so-pleasant glare from the clock.

“Oh monsieur. You must be freezing. This weather outside is quite frightful, no? You must have caught a cold. Come, warm yourself by the fire.” Scott says, ushering John back to the chair he was previously in. Isaac rushes after them, yelling for Scott to stop.

“No, no, no. Do you know what will happen if the master finds you here?” Isaac yells, going to Scott’s side and trying to pull them back. The trio make their way to the fire, unaware of their master’s eyes watching them from the balcony. “I demand that you stop. . .right. . .here!” Scott shushes him with a peck to the lips, which causes the clock to blush, but he shakes out of his trance when he sees the old man sit in their master’s chair. “Oh no, not the master’s chair!”

Suddenly, the footstool rushes past Isaac, barking excitedly. Isaac huffs dramatically, “I am not seeing this! I am not seeing any of this!”

“What are you so worried about, my love?”

John chuckles at the footstool running over to him, ignoring the lover’s quarrel happening a couple feet away, bending down to pet the top of the footstool. “Hello, there boy.” The footstool props himself up underneath John’s feet, causing him to chuckle again. “What wonderful service!”

“All right, sir, this has gone far enough. I am in charge here, I am the head of household, and - “ Isaac starts, but stops abruptly when he is run over by Mrs. Allison. Mrs. Allison rushes over to John’s side, smiling graciously at him.

“Would you like a nice cup of tea, sir? It’ll warm you right up!” Without waiting for a response from John, Mrs. Allison pours the tea into the teacup, which hops over into John’s lap. John chuckles at the teacup, sighing happily at the great hospitality he is receiving. When he first entered the castle, he hadn’t expected the great amusement and care he is now receiving.

John takes a drink from the tea, instantly feeling warmed up and relaxed as the liquid pours down his throat. He hears the mild protests from the clock telling him to leave and not to drink the tea, but John can’t bring himself to move. He is very relaxed where he sits by the fire, and he almost forgets why he is here in the first place.

Suddenly, a darkness settles upon them, and Scott’s lit flames along with the fireplace extinguish. The teacup flies out of his hand and takes refuge behind Mrs. Allison, who begins to shake, and Isaac is hiding underneath the rug. The door to the foyer bursts open, and in walks in a hooded figure. It is hard to tell what the figure looks like from where John is standing, but he looks tall and menacing. His eyes are glowing a deep red and as he walks closer, they become brighter.

Almost growling, the figure says, “There is a stranger here.”

Scott audibly gulps, and relighting his flames, he says, “Master, allow me to explain. This old man was lost in the woods. He was attacked by the wolves! And he was cold and - “

Scott is cut off by a loud growl from the figure, which puts out Scott’s flames once again. Scott looks down then, dejected. Isaac decides to crawl out from underneath the rug, defending himself, “Master, I would just wish to say that I had absolutely nothing to do with this.” Scott shouts a shrill ‘Isaac!’ from where he stands, but Isaac continues, “I was against this from the start! But would they listen to me? No!”

Again, the figure growls, causing Isaac to end abruptly. The figure walks forward, removing his hood and revealing his scarred face. There are scratches ranging in size covering his entire face, and he growls as John stares. “Who are you! What are you doing here?”

John stands up and moves away from the ugly creature, his red eyes following his every move. Shakily, John says, “I-I was lost i-in the woods and. . .” He trails off, to enthralled with the way this man looks. John has never seen anything like this before, and he is quite taken aback.

The man moves forward then, angry at how John is staring at him, “You are not welcome here!”

“I am sorry, sir.” John says, backing away once more, not breaking the contact from the man’s face.

“What are you staring at!” He asks, continuing to march up to John.

John cowers, “Noth-nothing!”

“So you have come to stare at the beast have you?" He yells, grabbing the old man by his shoulders. John looks down and sees claws where normal fingernails are supposed to be, and swallows. Only real monsters have claws like this, and John wonders nervously as the man grabs at him what kind of beast he is. 

“Please, I meant no harm! I just needed a place to stay for the night.” John pleads, trying to break away from the beast’s hold, but the man only holds him tighter.

“I’ll give you a place to stay!” The beast yells, picking John up over his shoulder and rushing out of the foyer, closing the door behind him and plunging Scott, Isaac, and Mrs. Allison into darkness.

-

Stiles sits in his cottage, reading his book. His father had left the day before, and Stiles deeply missed him. He was never apart from his father for long, and not seeing him for what seems like forever is taking a toll on Stiles.

His reading is interrupted, however, but a knock at his door. He sighs, closing the book and stands to answer the door. He doesn’t receive many visitors, so he’s surprised someone is knocking on his door at all. He pulls down the viewing divide his father made, and is met with the smirk of Monsieur Raeken.

Moaning, Stiles opens the door completely, “Raeken, what a pleasant. . .surprise.”

“Isn’t it though? I am just so full of surprises. You know, Stiles, there is not a girl or boy in town who wouldn’t love to be in your shoes. This is the day all of your dreams come true.”  
Raeken says, flexing his muscles. Stiles looks behind him and sees the three women who were on Raeken’s arm the previous day crying.

Stiles scoffs, "What do you know about my dreams, Raeken?”

“Plenty. Here picture this.” Raeken replies, moving past Stiles and going to sit at the table he previously sat at. “A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill roasting on the fire, and you, my little husband, massaging my feet, while the little ones play.”

Stiles groans and rubs a hand down his face. “Raeken, I am speechless. I honestly do not know what to say.”

“Say you’ll marry me.” Raeken says, standing up out of the chair to rush over to Stiles. Stiles recants, moving around the other side of the table towards the door.

Reaching for the doorknob, Stiles says, “I am very sorry, Raeken, but I just do not deserve you.” Raeken scoffs, coming to walk over to Sties. As he nears, Stiles ducks down and twists the doorknob, causing Raeken to fall face first in the mud outside the cottage. Stiles giggles, a hand over his mouth as he watches Josh stare in astonishment.

Outside the door, the chickens gather and seem to be laughing at Raeken, and Stiles laughs with them, “Can you imagine? He asked me to marry him. Me, the husband of that egomaniac brainless dimwit. ‘Sir Raeken’ can’t you just see it? ‘Sir Raeken’, his little husband. Not me, no sir.”

Stiles looks out at Josh, who is trying to help Raeken up. His eye catches on the silver chain dangling out of his pocket. He walks over to Josh, pulling the string out of his pocket. The chain is attached to a pocket watch, but not just any watch. It’s the watch Stiles gave his father before he left.

“Josh, where did you get this?” Stiles asks, stepping back over Raeken.

Josh shrugs him off, “I do not know.”

“Think, Josh. I know how hard that it, but you have to try. Where did you find this?” Stiles asks, again, desperate to find out why the watch was not on his father’s person.

“I-In the woods. I found it in the woods while hunting a deer.” Josh says.

“Take me there.” Stiles replies, walking into the cottage and grabbing his cloak.

“What? N-no. The woods are scary!” Josh says, backing away.

“Oh, come on, Josh!” Stiles drags him off in the direction of the woods, ignoring Josh’s protests. He needs to find his father, and if this is the only way possible, then so be it.

They walk in the woods for a while, Josh clinging to Stiles's side. Stiles sighs more than he ever has in his life, but he continues walking in the direction Josh tells him. It feels as though they have been walking forever, and Stiles wonders if they are just walking in circles. It is starting to become cold again, like it does most nights, and Stiles holds his cloak closer to his body.

“Are you positive you know where you are going?” Stiles asks, not wanting their expedition to be wasteful.

Josh nods, “Yes. The watch was up by a door. I thought it might be worth something, or that I could sell it in the market, so I grabbed it.”

They continue on, finally coming up to a trail that leads to a magnificent castle. It looks as if it is right out of one of the books Stiles reads, and he can’t help but to admire the beauty of it.

“Okay. This is where I found it.” Josh says. He points to the ground in front of an astonishing mahogany door. Stiles walks closer, trying to decipher the significance about the castle. A twig snaps a couple feet away, and Josh screams, taking off running in the opposite direction.

“Josh!” Stiles calls, not wanting to be left alone. He’s heard stories of these woods before, and he doesn’t like the fact that he’s never heard about this mysterious castle. Curios, Stiles walks closer to the castle, knocking on the door. He’s just going to ask if they know where his father is, or if they’ve seen him, but the door opens mysteriously with no one behind it.

Deciding to be brave, Stiles walks into the castle, the door closing behind him. “What is this place?” He asks, but he is not expecting an answer.

He walks further down the hallway, admiring the beautiful interior. Whoever lives here is quite lucky, and he could only hope that he would be able to live in such an amazing place.

He shouts, “Hello!” but does not receive an answer, so he continues further, looking for any signs of life. He stops suddenly, when he hears sounds coming from the foyer.

“Couldn’t keep quiet, could we? Just had to invite him to stay, didn’t we? Serve him tea, sit in the master’s chair, pet the dog!.” A voices says, sounding remorseful.

“I was only trying to be hospitable.” A different voice responds, and Stiles desperately wants to go in and ask if they’ve seen his father, but he backs away as he hears a door opening.

Walking back the way he came, Stiles says, “Hello? Anyone here? Father! Father, are you here somewhere?” He walks up a staircase, looking around and admiring the gorgeous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. He wishes he could find a place like this to call home, but he’s okay with his life, and just wants to find his father.

He walks through another hallway, backing against it when he hears other voices. A nasally child’s voice reaches Stiles’s ears, “Momma, there’s a boy in the castle!”

“Now, Liam, I won’t have you making up some wild stories.” Another voice says, a female.

“But really, Momma, I saw him.” The child says again.

“Not another word, Liam. Into the tub.” The woman says, and Stiles listens as someone else enters the conversation.

“Mrs. Allison, did you hear? A boy! I saw a boy in the castle!” The third voice says in an astounding french accent, sounding pleasantly excited. 

The child chimes in again, “See! I told you!”

Stiles backs away again, suddenly feeling the need to flee. He doesn’t really want to be caught snooping around the castle, so he makes his way back to the foyer to talk to the two people he heard before.

“Irresponsible, waxy-eared, slack-jawed - “ Stiles hears as he reaches the foyer.

Gaining the courage to speak up, he enters the room, claiming, “Father?”

He looks around the room to see that it is vacant, and stumbles further in. His eyes ghost around the surroundings, taking in the dimly lit room.

On the other side of the room, Scott and Isaac freeze in place, looking at each other in surprise. “Father?”

Sighing in disdain, the boy turns out of the room, back where he came. Scott is the first to break the silence, “Did you see that? It’s a boy!”

“Yes, darling, I know it’s a boy.” Isaac replies, not understanding Scott’s sudden interest.

“Do you not see, my love? He is the one! The boy we have been waiting for! He has come to break the spell.” Scott elaborates, jumping off from the table. He chases after the boy, leaving Isaac in the foyer.

“Wait, Scott! Wait a minute!” Isaac yells, chasing after his lover. He catches up to Scott, sliding in next to him as he watches the boy. The boy advances down a narrow hallway, unaware Scott and Isaac are watching him. Scott runs across the hallway, opening the door to the tower the old man is being kept. The boy turns around, startled by the creaking sound, and goes to travel up the steps. He sees Scott, who is frozen in place as the candelabra, and he picks the candlestick up to light the way.

Isaac follows the boy up the stairs, staring at Scott nervously. The boy calls out, “Father? Father!”

Isaac watches as Scott continues to stay frozen in the boy’s hands, and follows him up as they reach where the old man is being kept. Turning the corner, the boy asks, “Is anyone there?”

“Stiles?” The old man’s weak voice calls out, causing the boy to rush forward towards his father.

“Father!” Stiles calls, rushing over to John as he sees that he is in chains.

“How did you find me, son?" John asks slowly, his eyes lifting up as he sees his son.

“Oh, father, your hands are as cold as ice! We have to get you out of here.” Stiles says, gently placing the candelabra down. He moves to try and break the binds holding his father, but John moves back.

“Stiles, I want you to leave this place.” John coughs.

“Who has done this to you?” Stiles asks, desperately trying to undo the chains.

“There is no time to explain, my son. Now, go!” John shouts, trying to push Stiles back.

“I won’t leave you father! Please, we must go.” Stiles pleads, desperately trying to free his father. Suddenly, Stiles is pulled away from his father, and is met with a hooded figure. The figure growls, causing the candlestick’s light to extinguish.

“What are you doing here?” The hooded figure asks, his voice sounding of velvet but also harsh and scratchy.

“Run, Stiles!” John yells, pulling against his restraints.

“Who’s there? Who are you?” Stiles asks, unable to see the figure in such a dark setting.

“The master of this castle.” The figure responds, pulling Stiles closer to the skylight. The skylight is Stiles’s only source of light in the dark room, but he still can’t see the figure’s face.

“I have come for my father. Please, spare him. Can you not see he is sick?” Stiles pleads again.

“Then he should not have trespassed here.” The figure responds.

“But he could die! Please, I’ll do anything.” Stiles says, trying and failing to negotiate his way.

“There is nothing you can do. He is my prisoner.” The figure says, sounding triumphant. He backs away from the skylight, not wanting to give up his appearance.

“There must be some way! Please!” Stiles responds, an idea suddenly coming to mind. “Wait. Take me instead.”

That perks the figure’s attention, and he comes to move closer towards Stiles. “You would take his place?”

John, however, does not approve. “Stiles, no! You do not know what you are doing.”

“If I took his place, you would let him go?” Stiles negotiates, making his deal.

“Yes, but you must promise to stay here. Forever.” The hooded man says, and Stiles ponders the situation. While thinking about the predicament, he realizes that he can not see the captor’s face.

“Come into the light.” Stiles demands, wanting to see who he will be forced to spend forever with. Hesitant, the figure obliges, stepping into the skylight and taking off his hood.

Stiles watches as he reveals himself, gasping as he sees multiple scars litter the man’s face. He falls back towards John, stunned at the man’s features, and watches as he fully reveals himself. He sees the man’s teeth extended to a point, and his eyes are glowing a deep red. His teeth return back to normal a moment later, and his eyes dim, the red turning into the most beautiful mix of colors. They seem to be green, but when the light catches they look blue, and at a different angle they look golden. Stiles is drunk on the mesmerizing irises, for they are the most beautiful eyes Stiles has ever seen.

“Please, Stiles. I will not let you do this.” John shouts, causing Stiles to break eye contact with the man. The said man stumbles back out of the light, shaken from their shared moment.

Stiles regains his posture, “I will stay here forever. You have my word.”

“It is done.” The beast says, his black cloak flowing as he moves to unlock John’s chains. John rushes to Stiles once he is free, and holds him close.

“No, Stiles, please. Listen to me, I have lived my life - “ John tries to convince him, but the hooded man grabs him and pulls him away from Stiles with a sheer force of strength.

“Wait!” Stiles shouts. The man continues dragging his father away, and quickly rushes down the steps to the original staircase. The man’s cloak shutters behind him as he shoves John through the hallway, Stiles chasing after them.

“Stiles!” John shouts, fighting against the beast.

“Please, wait!” Stiles exclaims, rushing towards them both.

The man opens the mahogany door, throws John out into the forest, and closes it with one swift move. Scott is trailing behind Stiles, and he looks forlornly at the door. The man turns back to stare at Stiles, an angry expression on his face. Stiles sinks to the floor, his head in his hands.

“I did not even get to say good-bye. I will never see him again, and you didn’t even let me say goodbye.” Stiles chokes out, crying on the ground. Scott gently pats his back, then comes to stand by his master.

“Master?”

“What!” He shouts angrily.

“Since the boy is going to be staying with us for quite some time, I was thinking that you may want to offer him a more comfortable room.” Scott says, twiddling his candlesticks. The man growls angrily. “Then again, perhaps not.”

The man sighs, feeling sympathetic for his actions. He walks over to Stiles, his boots emitting a loud thump as he walks, “I’ll show you to your room.”

Stiles looks up at him, and the beast is once again shocked by his chestnut eyes, albeit watery, “M-My room? B-but I thought - “

“You wish to stay in the tower?” He replies, his angry expression deepening.

“No.”

“Then follow me.”

Stiles begrudgingly trails behind the man, curiously looking at all the paintings as they make their journey up the stairs. There is one of a large family, who Stiles suspects is the royal family who inhabited this castle. He begins to wonder when this man took it over, and wonders even more about what happened to the scars on his face. Stiles wishes for nothing more to be free of this place, and he hasn’t even been here for more than an hour.

The hooded man in front of him is carrying Scott as a light source, and every once in awhile, he glances back to make sure Stiles is following. He looks back at the boy, seeing a tear fall from his eye and down his rosy cheeks.

Scott pokes him with his until candle, “Say something to him.”

“What? Oh.” He turns to Stiles then, “I. . .um. . .hope you like it here.” He then glances at Scott for approval, who motions for him to go on, “This castle is your home now, so you may go anywhere you wish, except the West Wing.”

Stiles perks up, rushing to catch up to his captor, “What’s in the West Wing?”

The man suddenly stops, and Stiles almost runs into him, “It is forbidden!”

Stiles flinches, nodding quickly as the man’s expression softens. They walk a little ways more, and then stop at a room on the left side. Stiles knew the castle was big, but he had no idea how long it really was.

The man opens the door, and tenderly, he says, “Now if there is anything you need, my servants will attend to you.”

Stiles steps past him, gasping at how large the room is. His room is as large as his cottage back in town, and it shocks him that he has all of this to himself. The walls are painted a deep crimson, with several paintings hanging around the walls. He has a large bed in the middle of the of the room, and he moves to sit on it. The dresser is next to the bed, and he lightly touches it as he sits.

Scott pokes him again, “Dinner. Invite him to dinner.”

“You. . .will join me for dinner.” At the look of displacement on the boy’s angelic face, he adds, more bitterly, “That is not a request!”

Stiles, terrified, cowers back into the bed, and the man closes the door behind himself. Stiles stretches across the bed, finally breaking down and sobbing at his wretched day.

-

“Who does he think he is? No one says no to Monsieur Raeken!” Raeken groans, throwing his empty glass at Josh.

“He does not know what he is saying, Raeken. I am sure that if you ask him again in the morning, he will surely say yes!” Josh supplies, refilling Raeken’s glass of beer.

“Oh, but what for, Josh. He has rejected me. I am a disgrace.” Raeken says, his head falling onto the table.

“The Raeken I know would not dismiss this so easily. You need to try again.” Josh says, patting his back gently.

Raeken abruptly sits up, “You are right, my friend! I need to step up my charm. He will be blinded by my affection for him. No one simply says no to Raeken!” He takes a ginormous sip of his beer, causing a foam mustache to form on his lips. Josh goes to wipe it away, but is stopped by a curious look from Raeken.

“Do you have a plan?” Josh asks, sipping on his beer, deterring his actions away from himself.

“I may have some ideas - “ Raeken begins but is cut off by John entering the tavern and screaming.

“Help! Someone help me!” John shouts, grabbing one of the tenders.

“John?” The tender asks, clearly surprised at his outburst.

“Please, I need your help. He’s got him. He’s got him locked in a dungeon.”

“Who?” Josh asks.

“Stiles. We must go. Not a minute to lose!” John urges, trying to pull the tender out of the tavern.

“Whoa! Slow down, John. Who has Stiles locked in a dungeon?” Raeken asks.

“A beast! A horrible, monstrous beast!” John replies, rushing over to Raeken.

“Is it a big beast?” One of the townsfolk asks, trying to hide their chuckle.

“Huge!”

“With a hideous face?” Another townsman asks, chuckling.

“Astonishingly ugly!”

"And sharp, cruel fangs?” The last man asks, downright laughing at John.

“Yes, yes. Will you please help me?” John pleads at Raeken.

“Alright, old man. We will help you.” Raeken snorts, failing at concealing his laughter.

“You will? Oh, thank you!” John sighs. Raeken chuckles, nodding at the two townsfolk behind John. The grab his arms, picking him up off the ground and dragging him towards the entrance. They throw him out, the second time this night John has been throughout a door.

“Crazy old John! Always good for a laugh!” One of the townsfolk says, nudging one of his friends.

“Crazy old John, hmm? Yes, crazy indeed.” Raeken mutters, a plan suddenly hitting him. “Josh!”

“Yes, Raeken?” Josh answers, hiccuping.

“It seems I have a plan after all.”

-

Stiles sniffles, sitting up from his place on the bed. It feels as though he has been crying for hours, and he bets his eyes are red and puffy. He can’t bring himself to stop, and knows he probably sounds like a whiner. He’s never going to see his father again, so he feels he has the right to cry.

A knock at the door startles him, and the ‘clink, clink’ makes him wonder who it could be. He stands, dusting off invisible dirt from his clothes and rubbing his eyes to make them seem less puffy. He walks over to the door, opens it, and reveals a teapot and a teacup.

“Oh, um. Who are you?” Stiles asks, shocked at seeing inanimate objects moving.

“Mrs. Allison, dear. I thought you might like a cup of tea.” She introduces herself in way of greeting, walking past him.

“But you. . .ah. . .but. . .I - “ He backs away, overwhelmed by how they seem to be suddenly talking, and runs into the dresser.

“Be careful!” A shrill voice shouts, causing Stiles to jump.

“This is impossible.” Stiles says, sitting down on the bed.

“I know it is, sweetie, but here we are!” The dresser says, giggling at Stiles.

The teacup comes to rest next to Stiles, and Mrs. Allison begins to pour tea into it. “See, I told you he was pretty, Momma.”

“All right now, Liam. That’ll do.” The teapot, Mrs. Allison, replies. The teacup, Liam, smiles up at Stiles, sloshing tea onto the bed.

“Thank you.” Stiles replies, going to take a sip of tea.

“Wanna see a trick I can do?” Liam asks, and before Stiles can answer, Liam takes a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks adorably, and blows bubbles out of the top of the cup.

“Liam!” Mrs. Allison scolds.

Looking guilty, Liam replies quietly, “Sorry.”

Stiles chuckles, “It is quite all right, Liam.”

Mrs. Allison turns away from her son to Stiles, “That was a very brave thing you did.”

“We all think so.” The dresser added in, smiling lightly.

“But in making that choice, I have lost my father, my dreams. Everything.” Stiles replies, feeling his eyes well up with even more tears.

“Cheer up, child. It will turn out alright in the end.” Mrs. Allison replies. She looks up then, startled. “Oh, my. Look at me, jabbering on when there’s supper to get on the table.” She hops away, yelling, “Liam!”

Hopping away, Liam looks at Stiles, saying, “Bye!”

“Bye, Liam, Mrs. Allison. Thank you for the tea!” Stiles calls, watching as the door slams shut. He stands then, and is caught by the dresser.

“Now then. What shall we dress you in for dinner? Let me see what I have in my drawers.” The dresser says, rummaging through her drawers. She mutters to herself as she works, pulling out assortments of clothes and then glancing at Stiles, shaking her head and going to look through them more. “Here we are!”

Stiles turns to her, and she proclaims, “Ah! There, this green prince’s suit will bring out your eyes, darling! You look so ravishing!”

“That is very kind of you, but I am not going to dinner.” Stiles says, sitting back down on the bed, his head hanging low.

“Oh, but you must!” The dresser exclaims, nodding at Isaac as he enters.

Isaac clears his throat and bows slightly, “Dinner. . .is served.”

-

The beast paces back and forth in front of the fireplace, growing angrier as he waits. “What is taking so long? I told him to come down. Why isn’t he here yet?!”

Mrs. Allison approaches, cautious, “Oh, try to be patient, sir. The boy lost his father and his freedom all in one day.”

Scott bounces forward, singing in and gazing at his master, “Uh, master, have you thought that, perhaps, this boy could be the one to break the spell?”

Derek turns suddenly, his eyes bleeding into red, “Of course I have. I am not a fool.”

“Good. You fall in love with him, he falls in love with you, and - poof! - the spell is broken! We become human in the next couple of hours!” Scott explains, smiling widely.

“It is not that simple, Scott. These things take time.” Mrs. Allison explain, grinning lightly.

“But the rose has already begun to wilt.” Scott says, “It was only kept in bloom until your twenty-fourth birthday, master.”

“Do you not think I know that!” Derek yells, continuing his pacing. He sighs, stopping and slouching, “Besides, it is no use. He is so beautiful, and I am so . . .well, look at me! I am hideous!”

Scott slouched as well, looking to Mrs. Allison. “Oh, you must aid him to look past all that.”

“I do not know how.” The beast admits, showing his vulnerable side. He does not want to waste this opportunity to find love, even if it is under these circumstances, and wants to help his people be human again.

“Well, you can start by making yourself more presentable.” She says, nudging him with her spout. “Straighten up, act like a gentleman.”

Derek sits up, straightening his posture and putting on a formal face.

“Ah, yes. When he comes in, give him a dashing smile.” Scott adds in.

“But don’t frighten the poor boy.” Mrs. Allison supplies when the man’s face contorts into a scary toothy looking smile.

“Impress him with your wit.”

“But be gentle.”

“Shower him with compliments.”

“But be sincere.”

“And above all, you must control your temper, Master!” Scott finishes, sharing a wide smile with Mrs. Allison. The door suddenly opens, but instead of the boy walking in, Isaac enters, looking sheepish. Scott’s eyes light up as he sees his lover, and he hurries to his side. Derek growls, going from expectant to mad.

“Well, where is he?” The beast asks, towering over the couple.

“Who? Oh right! The boy. Well, uh, under the circumstances of recent events, he, um, is not. . .uh. . .coming.” Isaac finishes, flinching back as his master growls.

“What!?” He proclaims, picking up a chair and smashing it.

“Now, now, your grace! Master, let’s not be hasty.” Isaac tries to soothe, jumping out of Derek’s path as he marches up the stairs to the boys room. The objects follow, not wanting the beast’s temper to become too much of a problem for himself.

He bangs on the boy’s door, yelling, “I specifically told you to come down to dinner!”

The candelabra, teapot, and clock run up to their master, catching their breath as Stiles replies, “I am not hungry.”

“You will come out or I will. . .I will break down the door!” Derek calls, his eyes bleeding back to red.

Trying to soothe him, Scott says, “Master, I could be wrong, but that may not be the best way to win the boy’s affections.”

Isaac, pleading says, “Please, attempt to be a gentlemen.”

Growing angry, Derek looks to the objects, “But he is being so difficult!”

Mrs. Allison speaks up, “Gently, dear.”

Dejected, he sighs, “Will you come down to dinner?”

“No!” Comes Stiles’s reply.

The beast looks at the objects once more, growing more frustrated. “Try to act formal.” Scott supplies.

He takes a deep breath, “It would give me great pleasure if you were to join me for dinner.”

“Say please!” Isaac adds. Derek growls lightly at him.

“. . .Please?”

Now, very frustrated at the beast, Stiles replies, “No, thank you.”

Furious, Derek bangs on the door once more, “You can not stay in there forever!”

Provokingly, as if he were a child, the boy replies, “Yes I can!”

“Fine! Than go ahead and starve!” Derek replies to the door, then turning to the objects he says, “If he does not eat with me, he does not eat at all!”

He turns away, his cloak knocking Scott over as he runs towards the West Wing.

Scott stands back up, brushing invisible dust off of himself. “Well that did not go very well did it?”

“Scott, stand watch at the door and inform me at once if there is the slightest change.” Isaac says, turning away, only to be pulled back by Scott.

“You can count on me, my love.” He pecks Isaac’s lips, smiling widely as the clock blushes.

Moving away from Scott, to Mrs. Allison he says, “Well, we better go downstairs and start cleaning up. We would not want the dishes to pile up.”

“Seeing as how all the dishes walk, my love, I don’t think they will pile up.” Scott replies, waving as they move down the staircase as Mrs. Allison giggles.

-

Derek bursts through the room with rage, knocking over and destroying things in his path. He mutters to himself as he walks, trying to figure out what he is going wrong with the boy. “I ask nicely, but he refuses. What. . .what does he want me to do - beg?”

He moves around the room, picking up random books and throwing them. He reaches the stand with the enchanted rose trapped in the glass. He looks away from it, not wanting to be reminded of his mistakes, and grabs his magic hand mirror. “Show me the boy.”

The mirror shudders, and it swirls to reveal the boy and the dresser he once called his, talking quietly. The boy is hunched over the bed, gazing to the dresser, Lydia, as she pleads with him.

“The master’s not as bad as you may think, sweetie. Why don’t you give him a chance?”

The boy sits up, glaring at the dresser, “I do not want to get to know him! I was absolutely nothing to do with him!”

Derek sets the mirror down, the image of the boy, disappearing. Tenderly, he speaks, “I am just fooling myself. He will never see me for more than I am, a monster.” He sits down as he watches another petal from the rose fall, pain suddenly flooding his chest. “It is hopeless.” And with that, he gazes out the window, thinking about his past mistakes.

-

Stiles opens the door, glancing back at the dresser to make sure that she is sleeping. The dresser snores loudly, causing Stiles to giggle, before slipping out and closing the door behind him. He makes his way down the hall, attempting to be quiet.

From where he stands, Scott watches as the boy walks down the stairs. “He has emerged!” He whispers, chasing after the boy.

Stiles walks down the stairs and into the foyer, crossing the room in hopes to find the kitchen. He was lying when he told his captor that he was not hungry, for he had not eaten all day, but he was not going to sit idly at a dinner table and pretend that what the creature had done was allowed, so he refused to meet his captor for a night supper.

Following the sound of voices, Stiles walked through a hallway, and was met with the sight of Mrs. Allison and a wooden clock conversing on a countertop. He listened in to their conversation, for is curiousness got the better of him.

“Well if you ask me, he was just being stubborn. After all, the master did say ‘please.’” The clock groused.

Mrs. Allison hushed him, “But if the master never learns to control his temper, he will never break the - “

She is cut off by a walking talking candelabra, who exclaims, “He has emerged!” He walks right past Stiles, who hides behind the door.

“Come on out, child.” Mrs. Allison says, smiling at him. He smiles back, stepping out into the glow of the candlelight, and comes forward.

“Splendid to see you out and about, monsieur. I am Isaac, head of household.” The clock, Isaac, speaks up and is attacked in kisses from the candelabra. “And this is Scott.”

“Allo!”

“Pleasure to meet you. I am Stiles.” Stiles replies, shaking the unlit end of Scott’s candle and Isaac’s wooden arm.

“If there is anything we can do. . .stop that Scott!. . .to make your stay more comfortable - Scott! - please let us know.” Isaac tries to say as Scott continues attacking his face in kisses. Scott laughs, and kisses him on the cheek.

“Well I am a little hungry.” Stiles shyly responds, gently patting his stomach.

Mrs. Allison speaks up excitedly, “You are? Hear that? He’s hungry! Stoke the fire, break out the silver, wake the china.” The fire on the stove roars to life, and the drawers open to reveal the china and silverware standing at attention.

“Oh, my.” Stiles mutters.

"Remember what the master said!” Isaac says to Mrs. Allison, who promptly hits him with her spout.

“Oh, pish posh. I am not going to let the poor child go hungry.”

“Oh, if it is a problem, you do not need to cook. I can find something else. I don’t want to trouble you.” Stiles speaks up, only to be ignored.

“Oh, all right. Glass of water, crust of bread - “ Isaac begins, but is cut off by his lover.

“Isaac, I am surprised at you. He is not our prisoner, he’s our guest. Remember having a heart? Come on, my love, we must make him feel welcome here.” Scott says, pulling Isaac towards the table and turning to Stiles. “Right this way, monsieur.”

“Well keep it down. If the master finds out about this, it will be our necks!” Isaac says, going to sit at the end of the table.

“Of course, my love. Of course. But what is dinner without a little music?” Scott asks.

“Music!? Oh, no.” Isaac says, leaning back in his chair. Scott stands in the middle of the table, leaning on a wooden stick.

“Monsieur, it is with deepest pleasure and greatest pride that I welcome you tonight. And now, we invite you to sit back and relax. Let us pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents, “ Scott says, gesturing to a cart full of food that causes Stiles’s mouth to water, “your dinner.”

Scott starts to pronounce around the table singing a song as Stiles’s dinner comes to him. The chair he is sitting in promptly ties a napkin around his neck, and he unties the back of it to place it on his lap instead. The chair’s arms put it’s hands on it’s ‘waist’ as if it were mad.

Scott continues with his song, much to the displeasure of his lover and the enjoyment of Stiles. He brings over a plate of hors d’oeuvres, which Stiles dips his finger in to taste it. The food is absolutely delicious, with an assortment of greens, meats, and fruits.

A cabinet at the end of the table reveal the china, which rolls out and begins to perform along with Scott. Scott prances over to him, offering a menu. Plates of food go dance by, as the china and Scott continue their dance. Scott, who is boosted up on a plate by the china, is elevated into the air, and begins to juggle his candles. Mugs suddenly appear of the table, and begin a dynamic dance, hopping over one another.

Mrs. Allison comes zooming in then, Liam riding in the cart along with her. She offers tea to Stiles, who happily accepts, and watches as Scott continues his performance. The china and candlesticks perform and elaborate choreographed dance sequence as Scott continues to sing. Stiles watches with fascination as the song comes to a fantastic end, with silverware flying through the air, plates and feather dusters dancing, and Scott as the center of attention.

The song ends, and Stiles stands, clapping, “That was wonderful, Scott.”

Scott smiles, bowing. Isaac comes up behind him, “Yes, wonderful. My goodness, look at the time! Now it’s off to bed for you!”

“Oh I could not possibly go to bed now! It is my first time in an enchanted castle.” Stiles retaliates, looking to Scott.

“Enchanted? Who said anything about enchanted?” Isaac asks, turning to Scott. “It was you wasn’t it?”

“No, I figured it out for myself.” Stiles replies. “I would like to look around, if that it all right.”

Excited, Scott replies, “Oh! Would you like a tour!”

“Wait, I do not think that is such a good idea.” Isaac says, and turning to Scott he says, “We can’t let him go poking around certain places, if you know what I mean.”

Stiles comes up to them, poking Isaac in the stomach, “Perhaps you could take me. I am sure you know everything there is to know about this castle.”

Flattered, Isaac replies, “Well ah, I do!”

They set about the castle, Isaac talking animatedly as they pass certain fixtures. Stiles trails behind Scott and Isaac, listening intently. “As you can see, the pseudo facade was stripped away to reveal a minimalist rococo design. See the unusual inverted vaulted ceilings? This is yet another example of the new-classic baroque, don't fix it! Ha ha ha. Now then, where was I?”

Isaac turns around to see that the heads of the unoccupied suits of armor have turned to follow Stiles. “As you were!” They all snap back to face forward.

“Now, if I may draw your attention to the flying buttresses above the - monsieur?” Isaac asks, turning around to discover Stiles beginning to climb the grand staircase. He and Scott run up to him and jump in front of him, blocking his progress upstairs.

“What is up there?” Stiles asks, trying to move past the candelabra and the wooden clock.

“Where? Up there? Nothing! Absolutely nothing of interest at all in the West Wing.” Isaac assures, moving to pull the bottom of Stiles’s pants.

Scott has been shaking his head, but when Isaac nudges him, he nods in agreement.

“Oh, so that is the West Wing?” Stiles asks, moving to once again step in front of them.

“Nice going!” Scott whispers to Isaac, who rolls his eyes.

“I wonder what he is hiding up there.” Stiles mutters.

“Hiding? The master is hiding nothing!” Scott assures, also moving to grab at Stiles’s pants.

“Then it would not be forbidden.” Stiles justifies, finally moving and stepping over the objects. They recant, running back up the steps and blocking his path again.

“Perhaps monsieur would like to see something else. We have exquisite tapestries dating all the way back too . . . “ Isaac tries, but stops short when Stiles steps over them again.

“Maybe later, Isaac.” Stiles replies, continuing his path.

Scott and Isaac again dash forward, blocking Stiles yet again, “The gardens, or library perhaps?”

With peaked interest, Stiles replies, “You have a library?” 

Thrilled at the reaction out of him, Isaac nods, “Oh yes, indeed!”

“With books!” Scott supplies.

“Gads of books!”

“Mountains of books!”

"Forests of books!”

“Cascades. . .”

“Of books!”

“Swamps of books!”

“More books than you will ever read in a lifetime! Books on every subject ever studied, by every author who ever set pen to paper. . .” Isaac continues on, marching along with Scott and Stiles follows. He stops however, glancing back to the grand staircase. His curiosity getting the better of him, he turns back to the steps, climbing them and entering the West Wing.

The West Wing looks like much of the rest of the castle, and he continues walking down the hallway. His excitement begins to dwindle, however, when he, unbeknownst to him, approaches the beast’s lair.

As he walks down the hallway, he stops to look at his reflection in a shattered mirror, four pairs of his eyes staring back at him. He continues on, despite the growing fear in his stomach and reaches the end of the hall, where he finds a closed mahogany door, much like the door to the entrance to the castle.

He takes a deep breath, and reaches out to open the door. Stiles walks into the room, stunned to see sheets thrown over all the mirrors and an array of toppled books. There are some broken furniture pieces littering the room and he walks around aimlessly, looking around the room, and runs into a table. He catches it, however, before it can collide with the ground. Stiles turns his head towards the opposite wall, seeing a portrait of a man with stunning hazel eyes. Stiles thinks he has seen these eyes before, but can’t remember where he would of seen them.

The painting of the man is gorgeous, showcasing his dark black hair and piercing eyes. His facial features are hard to decipher because four long, narrow tears are slashed through the man’s face. Only his eyes can be decipherable by the way the painting is ruined.

Turning his head from the painting, he notices a single rose trapped inside a glass entrapment. The rose seems to be glowing, and a few petals surround it’s stem. He reaches out, his curiosity getting the better of him again, and opens the glass top, leaving the rose unprotected.

He runs a hand through his brown locks before reaching out to touch it. As he draws near, a shadow falls over him, and he is pulled back and spun around to become face to face with the beast. He holds Stiles with one hand, and puts the glass top back on top of the rose with the other, snarling.

Growling angrily, the beast says, “Why did you come here?”

Trying to back away, frightened, Stiles answers, “I am sorry - ”

“I warned you never to come here!” The beast yells.

“I-I did not mean any harm.” Stiles assures, still trying to free himself.

“Do you realize what you could have done?!” The beast yells again, tightening his grip on Stiles.

“Please, I did not mean to intrude.” Stiles tries again, and lets out a small hiss of pain as the beast’s grip tightens even more. Suddenly realizing what is happening, the beat lets go, horrified of what he has done. Stiles grabs his shoulder, tears welling in his eyes, and bursts past the beast, running to his room.

He wastes no time in reaching his room, grabbing his cloak and wrapping it tightly around himself. He runs down the staircase, towards the entrance of the castle, running past Scott and Isaac.

“Monsieur, where are you going?” Scott asks in confusion.

“Promise or no promise, I refuse to stay here another minute!” Stiles yells, opening the castle doors and running out deep into the forest. He runs and runs, not caring where he will end up. He stops however, when he is met with the glowing golden eyes of a wolf. He tries to back away slowly, but that appears to be the wrong move as the wolf lunges at him. Stiles turns the other direction, running left through the trees away from the castle. He runs away, knowing he will not be able to outrun the wolf. He hears the howl behind him, and notices how two more echo back, and begins to pick up his pace. He can hear the three wolves chasing after him now, and desperately continues running.

One of the wolves snags his cloak, and he is forced to the ground. He rolls around, watching in horror as the wolf begins to lunge at him, but is tackled mid-air by the beast. His black cloak flows in the wind as he fights off the wolf, causing it to retaliate and claw him on the arm. The two remaining wolves lunge at the beast, and he throws one of them off. One of the wolves claws his shoulder, and he hisses in pain, and grabs the horrid animal and throws it against a tree, knocking it out. The two other wolves suddenly jump off the beast, and in fear, they run off.

The beast glances at Stiles despairingly, and then proceeds to collapse to the ground.

Stiles walks closer to the man, pulls him up, and drags him back to the castle, grateful that he decided to save his life.

-

Stiles sits on the ground, tending to the beast’s wounds. He grabs Mrs. Allison and pours some to water onto a rag. “Here, now, let me see the wounds.”

The beast snarls, taking off his cloak and shedding his blood-soaked dress shirt. He reveals a toned chest, one Stiles is overcome with the desire to touch. He shakes his head, stares at the slightly tanned skin, and tries to hide his blush at seeing another man so intimately.

He runs the cloth over the man’s chest, moving to his side as he lets out a low hiss. “I am sorry. It will probably sting.”

The man’s permanent angry expression tightens, and he snarls lowly at the sting of pain he feels as Stiles cleans his wounds. They will heal later, but since he is trapped in this form, the healing process takes longer than it would have before.

Stiles continues rubbing as the man’s chest, feeling his body heat up all over. He has never been this close to a man before, and although this man seems to be one that Stiles was not previously getting along with, he has a really toned body, and Stiles can not help but to appreciate that.

“Hold still.” Stiles says, as the beast moves away from him, flinching from the pain.

“It hurts.” The man grinds out through his teeth, glancing up at the boy through his eyelashes.

“If you would hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much.” Stiles offers, continuing to clean the wounds.

“Well, if you had not run away, this would not have happened!” He yells, pulling back from Stiles.

Stiles sighs, “Well if you hadn’t frightened me, I would not have run away!”

The man opens his mouth to respond, but closes it when he realizes that he does not have a good comeback. “Well, you should not have been in the West Wing!”

“Well, you, sir, should learn to control your temper!” Stiles huffs, turning away from the beast and pouting, as if he were a child. He sighs again, playing with a loose thread on the cloth.  
The objects emerge out of their hiding place, stunned as to how their master gives no reply. No one has been able to tame his ferocious temper, and the objects are thoroughly surprised.

Stiles moves the cloth back to the man’s side, “Sit still.”

The man obliges, biting his tongue as the sting pulses through his body. They stay like that for a couple minutes, Stiles working to clean the wounds, and the beast watching him work, admiring his beauty.

Stiles is the first one to break the silence, “Thank you. For, uh. . . saving my life.”

The man looks up, startled and surprised, “You are, um. . . you, uh, are welcome.” His cheeks heat up, and he snarls quietly at the weakness.

Stiles tentatively grins, moving around the other side of the man to clean his shoulder. He rubs the cloth into the skin in circular motions, gentle, as if not to hurt the man.

Mrs. Allison watches the encounter with a small smile, grinning when Liam and Isaac enter. Scott is standing next to Stiles, providing the light for him to see.

“I do not know your name.” The beast speaks up, realizing he had not bothered to ask. If he were going to try and woo this boy, he needed to know his name.

He gulps, stopping his movements, “Stiles. I-I am Stiles.”

The man nods his head, going to reply, but is interrupted by Liam, “Stiles? What is a Stiles?”

Stiles chuckles at the teacup, “That is me. We have met before, remember, Liam?”

“Oh, yes! You are the pretty boy! Lydia says that you have a very nice body, but I do not know what that means.” Liam giggles.

Stiles freezes once more, his cheeks turning a deep crimson. Stiles does not know who Lydia is, but someone telling him that he has a nice body makes him blush. The beast underneath his rag lets out a low growl, steadying himself. “I-I um. . ."

“Liam! That is enough. Now hush!” Mrs. Allison shushes him, smiling tentatively at both Stiles and her master. “Apologies, monsieur.”

Stiles shakes his head, breathing out, “It is fine,” and then continues rubbing at the man’s shoulder. He pulls the cloth back after a moment, “You are done, now.”

The beast nods, standing up. He leans over Stiles, his height at full extent now, and Stiles is reminded yet again of who his captor is. He backs away slightly, not knowing how to react. The man’s face softens as he takes a step forward, seeing how Stiles is backing away from him.

“Derek.” The man says, walking past Stiles to the exit.

“What?” Stiles asks confusedly, stopping the man from continuing his walk. He turns back around, his dark eyes connecting with Stiles’s browns.

“My name. It is Derek.” He elaborates, turning back around and walking out of the room, leaving Stiles flabbergasted and the objects grinning.

-

“I do not usually leave the asylum in the middle of the night, but they said you would make it worth my while.” McCall says, looking to Raeken with interest. Josh sits across from him in the tavern, eagerly watching on as Raeken negotiates with the local warden.

It is time to set his plan in motion.

Raeken takes out a velvet bag full of gold out of his pocket, placing it on the table in front of McCall. McCall sits up, grabbing the velvet bag. “Ahh, I am listening.”

“It’s like this, see. I have my heart set on marrying Stiles, but he seems to be needing a bit of. . . persuasion.” Raeken elaborates, lifting his feet up onto the wooden table.

Josh butts in, “Turned him down flat! Can you believe it, McCall?”

Raeken throws an empty beer mug at his sidekick and sending him a glare, causing Josh to recoil, “Everyone knows his father is a lunatic.” He leans back in his chair, sending McCall a dashing smirk, “He was in here tonight, raving about a beast in a caste. . .”

“John is harmless, Raeken.” McCall says, waving him off.

“The point is, McCall, is that Sites would do anything to keep is precious father from being locked up in jail.” Raeken says, continuing.

Josh cuts in again, moving the beer mug off of his head, “Yeah! Even marry him!”

Raeken sends Josh another threatening look, who cowers away and puts the beer mug back on top of his head. Looking back to McCall, he raises an eyebrow.

“So, what, you want me to throw his father in jail until he agrees to marry you?” McCall asks. Raeken nods triumphantly, smiling a malicious smile. “Oh, that is despicable! I love it!"

Raeken stands suddenly, dragging Josh up by the arm with him. The beer mug drops from Josh’s head, clanging as it hit the ground. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

McCall stands, walking out the door, following Raeken and Josh as they make their way towards the outskirts of town, where Stiles and his father live. McCall admires the view as he walks. He does not recall a time where he was able to walk around as he pleased, and takes note of how relaxed he seems to be. For someone who is getting paid to falsely imprison someone in his asylum, he can’t help not feeling any remorse. The velvet bag jingling in his pocket reminds him of when he first opened the institution, and smiles as he revels in the pastime.

“Ah, we are here.” Raeken says, turning suddenly to a little cottage. A viewfinder is pulled down, and from what McCall can see, there is a fire lit in the apartment. The moon sighs heavily in the night, and Raeken puts out his torch as he approaches the cottage.

As McCall nears, he can hear John muttering quietly. Upon further inspection, he hears, “If no one will help me, I will just have to do it myself. I will find that castle again, and I will somehow rescue my son.”

John begins pacing throughout the cottage, unaware of the three unwanted visitors outside. He shoves objects in his bag, such as a lantern and a bit of rope. He does not exactly have a plan as to how he is going to find the castle, or as to how he is going to rescue his son from the wretched beast, but he has to be willing to put forth the effort into trying to help his son. After all, the only reason Stiles is all alone in that castle with that hideous creature is because of John, and he can not help feeling a spark of sorrow hit him as he thinks about his son.

McCall walks closer to the door, watching as John marches around his home. Raeken walks in front of him, nearly pushing him out of the way, and stumbling to knock on the door. John approaches, wondering who could be bothering him at this time of night. The sun must not rise for at least a couple more hours, and John hasn’t a clue as to who could be intruding on his cottage.

He opens the door, and shockingly asks, “Monsieur Raeken, what are you doing here?”

Raeken smirks again, a permanent gesture, McCall notes, and replies, “We have decided to come and help. If this beast is as retched as you claim, John, it needs to be killed.”

“Oh, thank you! With the aid of you, Raeken, I can help save my boy!” John replies, turning away from the door and letting Raeken enter, along with the other two men.

“Of course, old man. And just how atrocious was this beast?” Raeken asks, sitting down on a chair and watching as McCall and Josh move to stand behind John.

John looks to them curiously, then turns back to Raeken, “Oh, so horrid! It was the most hideous thing I have ever laid my eyes upon.”

Raeken chuckles, leaning further in the chair. “Alright, old man, we’ll help you.” Suddenly, a bag is thrown over John’s head, and Josh ties his hand with rope. “We’ll help you get better, old fellow.”

“Wait, no. Please, my son! He is being held in the castle with the beast!” John pleads, stumbling as McCall pushes him out of his cottage.

“Oh, hush, now, John. We would not want you to wake up any more beasts lurking out there, would we?” Raeken laughs, grabbing Josh by the neck and dragging him back towards the cottage. “Stay here and report back to me when Stiles returns. I hope he realizes that I am the only one who can free his poor father. Stiles will be my husband, yet. You will see!”

He throws Josh to the side of the cottage, who stumbles as he tries to regain his footing. With one last fleeting glance at his henchman, Raeken turns, flowing McCall and John as they makes their way to the asylum.

-

Stiles wakes up to light streaming into his eyes, and he yawns. The dresser is still sleeping soundlessly, next to the bed, and Stiles takes a moment to collect himself. He takes a deep breath, remembering the previous night. He remembers switching places with his dad, running away, and being saved by Derek. It is still strange to call him Derek, even if it is actually his name. Stiles almost wishes that his name was as hideous as the scars on his face, but the name oddly suits him.

Stiles has mixed feelings about the entire situation. He stands by what he said earlier to the dresser, that he does not want to get to know Derek, but having a friend through all of this is what is going to keep Stiles sane, even if it is his kidnapper. Stiles sighs, running his hands over his face. Even he understands now why the townspeople call him odd. He is practically falling head first into a case of Stockholm Syndrome.

But on the other hand, Derek does have some temper issues, and Stiles cannot help wondering if that is what lead to his face becoming so atrocious. Or maybe he was born that way, or maybe an incident with the wolves happened, but that would not explain his fangs and the glowing red eyes that bleed through his beautiful irises when adrenaline rushes. Maybe Derek was bitten? Stiles has read stories before of wolves biting humans, who later turn into beasts themselves, but could that really be happening to Derek?

And then there is his gorgeous toned body. Stiles feels himself blush as he thinks about it, but he cannot seem to get the image of the tan torso out of his mind. He is literally losing his sanity!

Stiles does not know whether to trust Derek or not, seeing as how he has basically kidnapped him and is keeping him here forever, but there is also the fact that Derek saved him from the wolves. Stiles was warned not to enter the West Wing, yet he did it anyway, and was scared off by Derek. Derek did not have to come to his aid, since he blatantly disobeyed, and yet, Stiles was saved by him despite this.

Stiles sits up then, deciding he’s had enough time in his own head for now. He stands up, stretching his arms above his head and yawning again. He’s back in his room, and as he looks around, he does not remember coming back into it. He shrugs, however, and sets on the task of making his bed. He refuses to believe he is a prisoner in this castle, so he chooses to name himself as a guest, and guests make their beds, which is what he justifies as he wonders why he is even doing it at all.

“Well aren’t you adorable! Making your bed already. Oh, the master will be so pleased.” The dresser speaks up, startling Stiles. He turns to face her, his eyebrow shooting up to alert his confusion.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks.

“Oh sweetie, you will make an exquisite husband!” She replies, clapping her wooden arms together. “I did not get to introduce myself last night, monsieur.” She does a little bow. The light crimson dresser clears her throat, and announces, “I am Lydia, your humble Wardrobe.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lydia. I am Stiles.” He greets, bowing back at her. She smiles at him, steading back up. He can not help the blush that falls upon his cheeks, however, remembering what Liam had told him about Lydia appreciating his body.

“Now that’s all settled, we need to decide what you will wear today!” She announces, springing her door open and rummaging through her drawers. She pulls out a cream dress shirt and black leather pants, handing them to him. “These will hug you nicely, dear.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” He replies, grabbing the clothes confusedly. “But will my clothes not suffice?”

The wardrobe bursts into a laugh, saying, “Oh, my, heavens no! Your peasant clothes will not be tolerated as long as I am around. You know, I used to be a designer for the royal family, before I was turned to this. They wore my clothes all over the country, and everyone wanted them.”

“Turned?” Stiles asks, deciphering what she had said.

“Oh, my. Look at me jabbering again! That is a story for another time, dear. Now, get dressed! I am sure Scott and Isaac are waiting for you downstairs.” Lydia replies, blushing lightly.  
She scoots him along behind a silhouette, and he begins to strip down, changing into the clothes. As he steps out, the wardrobe gushes. “I was absolutely right, dear. Those pants do wonders for your legs!”

Blushing a bright pink, Stiles says, “Thank you for the clothes, Lydia.” He turns away from the wardrobe, who happily shouts at his gratitude back. He walks out of his room, seeing no one lurking or standing on guard, heading down the hallway and stairs to the kitchen. He once again stops to admire some of the paintings, gazing again at the beautiful family.

Down in the kitchen, Stiles finally emerges, greeted by Isaac, Scott, and Mrs. Allison. “Hello, monsieur!”

“Hello.” He greets back, smiling.

“Monsieur Stiles, what do you wish to have for breakfast?” Mrs. Allison asks, the teapot hopping over to him.

He blushes, looking down, “Oh, um. I do not know. Normally, I would eat some nuts or berries. But you do not have to cook for me! I am fine.”

“Nonsense, dear! You are a guest in the Grand Castle, and you shall be treated like one.” Mrs. Allison replies, “Would you like me to surprise you?”

“If you are sure, Mrs. Allison.” Stiles replies questioningly, smiling at her. She nods lightly, welcoming him with a grin, “Alright then.”

She sets about then, yelling at the pots and pans and heating up the stove. Stiles leans against the counter, watching. Scott comes up next to him then, with Isaac in tow. “She is great, no?”

“You are lucky to have someone like Mrs. Allison around. I do not know how this castle would run itself if she were not here!” Stiles says, chuckling.

Isaac grins, “Do you have someone like that, monsieur?”

Stiles’s smile fades as he is painfully reminded of his father. Nodding sadly, he replies, “Yes. I do. Or, uh, did. My father. He took care of me. Now it is my turn to take care of him.”

Scott nods, scooting closer as he pats his candle on Stiles’s back, “Tell us about him.”

Stiles grins, “My father is astounding. He makes these fabulous inventions, and they work! Or, most of them do anyway. He is always willing to talk to me about anything, and I love the advice he gives me.” He stops, hitting the nostalgia deep. “He used to say that I reminded him of my mother.”

“And where is she? If you do not mind my asking.” Scott says, lightly smiling.

“She passed when I was a baby. I do not remember her, but I am reminded of her constantly through my father, and I feel as though I know her enough.” Stiles elaborates. “My mother, father, and I were migrating from Poland due to famine, and we were put on this crowded ship. Many people were sick on this boat, and the long journey took a great toll on my family. I was only a couple months old, and while I was not precisely immune to these diseases, I did not receive any, but she did.”

Stiles realizes his voice is becoming heavy, and so he changes the subject, “Anyway, what is your life like? Have you always been a candelabra, or a clock for that matter?”

Scott and Isaac freeze, pulled back from the lingering nostalgia, “Oh um. That is a story for another time.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.” Stiles mutters. “Alright then.” He does not really want to vacate the subject, but if they are telling him it is not the time, than he can only hope to be told soon.

Suddenly, Derek walks in, his black cloak back around his shoulders. The whole kitchen seems to freeze then, including Stiles, and they all stare at their master. Derek looks to them with his permeant angry expression, moving to sit at one of the tables inside the kitchen. Stiles watches him, sees him move with grace and elegance. A beast would not move with the elegance Derek possess and, not for the first time, Stiles wonders who exactly this man is.

The kitchen buzzes back into order again, setting about on making breakfast. Stiles glances back at Scott, who smiles timidly at him. “Do you still not want to get to know him?”

Stiles looks back at Derek, unaware that he can hear their conversation, and then back at Scott, “I do not know. I do not know what has changed and what has not, but I. . .I feel as though I just do not want to know, no matter how curious I am.”

“Pardon me, monsieur, but you are going to be here forever. Do you want to spend your days alone in the castle? We are here, Stiles, but we can not always be around.” Isaac butts in, shrugging his shoulders. Scott smiles at him, kissing him on his glass face.

Stiles smiles at him, sighing, wondering if it is worth the effort to get to know someone so full of rage, lost in his own misery. He supposes there are pros and cons, just like to any situation, and he too would not like to be spending his days miserable at being held hostage. He cannot fathom why he has not tried to escape yet, but he feels a pull to this castle, which slightly frightens him. He thinks that if he were to try to escape, Derek would just catch him, and maybe even treat him like a real prisoner like his father was, and then he justifies that it is not worth the effort. But is knowing Derek worth that effort? Does he really want to know what lurks behind the mask of his heart?

Curiosity is a strange phenomena, and Stiles happens to possess a lot of it. He feels as though he should want to know Derek, but deep down, he is frightened at what he might uncover.

“Can you at least tell me who lived here prior?” Stiles asks changing the subject and capturing Scott and Isaac’s attention. He gazes at Derek, who is sitting at the table. His black cloak falls in waves at his feet, and his attire is on full display. He too is wearing the leather pants, only his top is a deep cream color. He startles forward as the questions topples out of Stiles’s mouth.

“Be very careful as to what you say next.” Derek snarls at Isaac and Scott, his expression gloomy. Stiles’s mouth opens slightly, stunned.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to impose. This castle is very beautiful. I cannot help but wonder who lived here.” Stiles replies, feeling bad at having almost gotten his friends in trouble.

“Had it occurred to you that maybe it was I who inhabited it?” Derek asks, a dumbfounded tone lacing his words.

Stiles freezes then, the thought not occurring to him. How can such a beautiful place belong to such a horrible looking person? Stiles supposes that he should not judge by appearances. He has never looked at people wrongly because of their looks or status, so he should not start now.

“I-I. . .” He stutters, looking at Scott. Scott shrugs adorably, his candles lighting up and extinguishing. Stiles thinks that Scott only does that when he gets excited, and hides a grin.

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!” He hears, the remaining tension gone from the room. He looks over to where his name is being called, and sees Liam standing on the countertop. Stiles smiles at him.

“Hello, Liam.”

“Guess what! Momma said that I get to help her cook!” The teacup says excitedly, coming to hop over to Stiles.

“That is amazing, Liam.” He responds, chuckling at the enthusiasm emitting from Liam. He grins, looking to Mrs. Allison, who sighs and then smiles at him.

“Lydia said that I am such a good helper. I help her all the time and she even said that you helped her! You made the bed this morning!” Liam says, his eyes shining bright.

Stiles nods at him, looking to Derek, who has once again perked up, “You made the bed?"

“Oh, um. . .uh, yes.” Stiles stutters once again.

“My servants would have done that for you.” Derek replies, turning away.

Stiles frowns, “It is not polite to leave a messy bed.”

“And you, a peasant, know about politeness?” Derek scoffs, his eyes widening as he realizes what he has said. He does not think of Stiles as a peasant, even if he is one, and does not think this will gain the affection of the boy he is trying to woo.

Mimicking Derek’s scoff, Stiles says, “Why do you have to be so grumpy? Surely, if you were such a good master, your servants would not have to do all the work.”

Stunned, the beast slouches, not used to someone retaliating. Normally, if the servants get snarky, he puts them in their place, and although he does not look down on them, they are his servants, and they have pressing matters. It is not likely for a servant to respond back to him when he says such things, yet this boy did not back down. Stiles continues to surprise him, and as he moves to sit, Derek tries to figure him out once again, coming up blank as to how to start earning his affections.

-

He wanders the castle, once again admiring the works of art placed on the walls. Stiles loves looking at artwork, and searches for the deeper meaning from within. His books are his escape, and since he does not have that, the paintings are his next best thing. He has spent the past two days aimlessly looking at paintings all over the castle, staying clear of the West Wing, trying to figure out the meaning of each one.

His encounter with Derek in the kitchen was two days ago, and he has only seen the man when it is time to eat. It is as though they are avoiding each other, but always seem to know where each other is. This morning, Derek was in the study reading a book to get away from everything, and Stiles walked in, not knowing he was in there, and promptly walked out before Derek could see him. Stiles was in one of the towers, staying clear of the one his father was kept in, and Derek happened to be moving an entry table just as Stiles was walking back down the stairs. Stiles did not see him, but Derek got a good look of the boy, and then ran away in the other direction. 

Weird occurrences happen, and Stiles does not really want to know what it all means. It is as though the universe is pulling them together, and once again, he does not know how to approach that. He has not actually sat down and had a real, heartfelt conversation with Derek, and God help him, he kind of wants to. 

Stiles's curiosity has peaked in the three days he has been here. He wants to know how this castle became enchanted and how Derek came to inhabit it. He wonders why all the enchanted objects refuse to tell him how they transformed into said enchanted objects. He wants to understand why they will not tell him anything, and longs to know what they are hiding. Most of all, he wants to know why Derek treats him the way he does, by feeding him and allowing him to roam the castle, instead of being made as a prisoner. Stiles wonders why all of their eye contact is filled with tension, which he does not know is good or bad. He needs to understand why he blushes every time he thinks about Derek’s chest and what he is hiding underneath that cloak because he finds himself drifting to it more times than he is willing to admit. He longs to look into Derek’s beautiful eyes and have the answers to his questions written in them. He stands by being frightened at what he could uncover if he were to know Derek, but a huge part of him wants to do it anyway.

He is torn between his options.

Breaking from his thoughts, he comes upon the grand staircase, once again admiring the art on the walls. He stays close to the east side of the staircase, knowing that the West Wing is just a couple feet away. He does not really want to admit that he is scared of the West Wing, but it does bring up some bad memories. 

Turning away, he walks south towards the back of the castle, taking the balcony walkway as he looks down. The chandelier shines bright in the sunlight, making it have a gold hue. The candles lit emit and enormous flame, and Stiles continue walking as he stares at it. He has only gone back here once, and he wants to continue his journey as he takes in the scenery before him.

Glass windows revealing the forest greet him, and he smiles. The woods is something most people are scared of, including Sties, but he is memorized by the beauty of it. The way the sun illuminates the woods makes the trees look fuller, the leaves greener. A small stream runs through the middle of the tree path, and Stiles can see the water sparkling even where he stands a couple yards away. 

A couple of birds speed past the windows, causing him to jump back, chuckling. He moves his gaze from the giant windows, looking over the balcony at the dining room table. It had not occurred to him that he was in the dining room, and he only found his way up here when he looked up and saw the balcony when he was eating lunch the past day. 

He sees Scott and Isaac sitting on the table, chatting. Scott is gazing into Isaac’s eyes, smiling widely. Isaac seems to be telling a story judging by the wild holistic movement of his wooden arms. Mrs. Allison and Liam are a couple feet away, talking with a feather duster. Stiles is too far up to hear their voices, but he smiles at them anyway. He looks around again, watching as Derek enters the dining room. The objects seems to slightly stand up in attention, and Isaac pauses his hand movements. Derek looks at them, and nods while going to the side of the room. 

The objects deflate at that, going back to whispering their conversations. Derek seems to disappear in the shadows, like he seems prone to doing. Stiles sighs, moving to continue down a little while staring at a large painting. Scott looks up, noticing Stiles, and waves. Stiles waves back, smiling at him. Isaac gives him a small grin while Scott kisses his cheek. 

Stiles turns away from them, his shoes thumping as he leans against the railing. The metal brushes up against his backside towards the top of the hem of his pants. He could almost sit on the railing if he moved up slightly. He averts his eyes back to the painting. It is a painting of two girls and a boy, standing in order by height. The boy stands in the middle of the two girls. The one on his left looks older than the one on his right, and their arms are linked together. Stiles squints at it, seeing how the people all look alike. The boy’s arms are strikingly familiar, and Stiles cannot remember where he has seen those eyes before. There is something about the painting that pulls Stiles in. They are standing close together, so perhaps maybe they are siblings and the way their body language is shows that they are close. The colors used are blue and purple undertones, the blue capturing the darkness of their hair and the purple showcasing the colors of their outfits. It is strange, though, because the two girls' eyes are the same two colors, showcasing the blue and purple effortlessly. But the boy’s eyes are an excellent mix of blue and green, which is the only green in the entire painting. 

A loud thump of a bird hitting the window causes Stiles to jump, and before he can replace his footing, he falls backward towards the ground. His arms flail, and a small scream falls from his lips. His eyes are shut tightly, and before he hits the ground, he is suddenly caught. 

Stiles’s arms close around the neck of the body, and he pulls himself closer to the feeling of warmth and safety. He opens his eyes and gasps as he looks into Derek’s beautiful eyes. Derek’s arms enclose around Stiles’s lithe body, pulling him even closer. Their panting breaths mingle as they continue staring into each other's eyes.

Derek is mesmerized by the beauty of Stiles’s chestnut irises as they stand. He breaks the eye contact as he lets his eyes roam Stiles’s beautiful features, seeing the assortment of moles and the crimson blush on his cheeks. The objects stare on with content smiles, watching as their master holds the boy close to his chest. Derek brings his eyes down further, stopping at Stiles’s red lips. He is suddenly overcome with the need to feel how they would move against his, and longs to taste them.

He brings his eyes back up before the desire fully sinks in, connecting his eyes back to Stiles’s. Derek’s hand twitches from where it is underneath Stiles’s legs and he pulls him even closer. A sudden bark from the footstool shakes them out of it, and Derek lets Stiles go carefully as the moment breaks. The blush on Stiles’s cheeks deepens, and he backs away from Derek while pointedly looking down.

“Uh-wh-. . .” He stutters, rubbing the back of his neck. He does not know how Derek got to him so fast, but he is really grateful that he did.

He can’t do this, though. Not now. Not while he is trying to figure out everything in his head. He needs to get away from this right now. 

“Stiles - “ Derek starts, but Stiles turns around, bursting out of the dining room, his shirt flowing heavily as he runs away from the man. 

-

The nurse walks past his door, peeking in. The news of John Stilinski being admitted to their small asylum spread quickly throughout the hospital. Nurses and some doctors alike were stunned to find out that the town lunk was within their grasp. It was known that John was an inventor, and the town saw him as crazy, but he was harmless. John did not have an evident reason to be locked beside the fact that McCall told them to. Everyone listened to McCall, and he was quite respected around town, so not a lot of questions were asked, but only a couple of red flags raised.

The Bellefonte Mental Asylum was not the place for John Stilinski. 

He sat in his room, wiggling his arms to become free. The sick person even put a straight jacket on him. Trapped within the confines of his mind, John sat staring at the white walls.  
Screams emitted at all times, and he couldn’t help but to think that they were just inside his head. He hadn’t even been there a full three days yet and he was already losing his mind.

And Stiles! Poor old Stiles, trapped in that horrid castle with that beast! He’s probably chained in that tower, starving and deprived from water. That beast is probably treating him like trash, as a means to an end. John cannot stand for it, but no one will listen to him, or believe him. Since he got to the asylum, only McCall has spoken to him, telling him the rules and whatnot. It is not like they apply to him anyway, since he has not left this cell since he got to the wretched place.

He glances around the room once more, seeing the nurse peeking in. Perking up, he says, “Hello! Please, help me! I do not belong here! My son! Please, I need to help my son!”

The nurse jumps, startled, and scurries away. John sighs deeply. Every time he tries to communicate with someone, they run away, afraid to confront him. He does not know what to do in this horrid place, and can’t help but to wish that Stiles would save him. Surely, the town has to notice that he is gone now? He goes and sits at that fountain every day, and people talk to him, so of course they have noted his disappearance? 

John flails his arms again, trying to get free of his restraints. If no one will help his boy, he needs to take it upon himself. Muttering, he says, “I am coming, my boy. I am coming to save you.”

-

Stiles bursts through the doors of his room, slamming it shut. He recalls to maybe apologize to the door, for he does not know what items are enchanted or not, but then he realizes how crazy that sounds and how crazy he sounds. 

He is panting heavily and leaning against the door, trying to comprehend what just happened. How could Derek get to him so fast from where he stood on the other side of the room? Did he see him fall and just decide to rush over? Or did he just happen to walk by and Stiles literally fell into his arms? 

The crazy part is, those are not even the questions Stiles wants to be asking right now.

He cannot get the image of Derek’s blue-green eyes out of his head. The way those gorgeous irises enchanted him like he was under a spell. He cannot help but feel the light ghost of warm breath from Derek on his cheek. Can’t get the feeling of Derek’s toned and muscled body pulled against his out of his mind. He feels the soft feathery hair from Derek’s nape in his hands. He remembers the way Derek held him close, and how he felt safe in those arms. 

Stiles stumbles back against the wall, feeling as though he is unable to breathe. He liked being so close to Derek, and he doesn’t even know why. Maybe it’s the dark and mysterious persona Derek carries himself with, or the compassion he seems to possess. There is no way Stiles can stay away from him now, even if he wanted too. His curiosity has gotten the better of him. He wants to understand Derek now. Wants to know why he caught him instead of letting him fall. He wants to know why there is so much tension between them now, and he wants to know if it’s good or bad. 

He knows that Derek is his captor, but something is drawing him to the man. He wants to know why Derek does not treat him like a prisoner, and why he seems so distant but passionate. It’s as though Derek is not even his kidnapper, but Stiles knows that if he were to escape, Derek would bring him back, and he wants to find out why that is. 

Stiles desperately wants to know how Derek came to look so horrid, because he does not think he was simply born that way. Stiles does not judge people, and he refuses to now not get to understand Derek based off his looks. He is going to find out about everything that is happening in this castle and he is going to understand everything there is to know about Derek.  
It is also not just a curiosity aspect, but a fact that Stiles will not dwell on. He does feel a pull towards Derek, but he does not know what kind of pull. He knows that he likes Derek’s body, like a lot, but he also thinks that Derek can be sweet when he wants to be. Nevertheless, Stiles is going to uncover everything, and get to know his captor in the process. He is not scared of finding out the truth anymore, but he will do so with caution. 

Unbeknownst to him, however, this little trip down the rabbit hole would end up changing his life for the better, and maybe even save someone in the process. 

-

Stiles has not seen Derek in nearly a week. 

He is not coming to breakfast, lunch, or dinner. He does not walk in the halls where Stiles walks. He is not even in the West Wing, like Stiles had thought he would be. He still does not like talking about the altercation in the West Wing, but he did check it in hopes of finding Derek. He was not in his “lair” and was not in any rooms inhabiting the West Wing.

It is as though he has disappeared. 

Stiles asked Scott if he had talked to his master, and Scott was very vague, only saying that he was fine and was still in the castle, but refused to tell Stiles where. Stiles asked around a little, and the closest he got to a real answer was from Mrs. Allison, who told him that he just wanted to be alone for a while. Stiles had sighed, told her thanks, and walked back to his room. 

Derek is clearly avoiding Stiles. 

And Stiles does not really know what to do. He is still slightly confused about their encounter almost seven days ago, but he really wants to just see Derek. It does not really know what has changed in these past few days, but being here in the Grand Castle is not as bad as he previously thought. God help him, he actually kind of likes being here now. Scott is quickly becoming his favorite of the enchanted objects, and Isaac seems to be warming up to him rapidly, even joking with him on occasion. Mrs. Allison acts like the mother he never had, and he s slightly afraid of her by how ruthless in the kitchen she is. Little Liam holds a spot in Stiles’s heart and he always loves conversing with the little teapot. Lydia is still so embarrassing, making him wear clothes that she thinks looks good for his body, but he still likes her anyway. Even the footstool is high up on his list, barking and playing with him while roaming the castle. Derek is the only one who Stiles has not really gotten to know, and he is obviously going to change that if he could ever find him. 

He mostly considers the enchanted objects as the family he was sort of deprived from, minus his father. They are always looking after him and making sure that he is alright. It’s also vice versa, too. Stiles always makes sure that Mrs. Allison has all the help she needs, or talks with Lydia when she starts whining about her past life as the royal designer, or consoling either Scott and Isaac when the couple has a misunderstanding. Stiles has never seen two people more in love than those two, but they bicker about almost everything.

Stiles is also mostly acquainted with the castle, for he has been in almost every room, minus more in the West Wing. He still has not gotten the chance to go to more areas around the North and South sides, but he knows every room in the East Wing like the back of his hand. It is where he is now, wandering around like he often does after lunch. It was another day Derek had not made his presence known, and Stiles thought he would go about the caste like he normally does these days.

There is not much left to discover in the East Wing, so he decides to make his way to the South Wing in hopes of discovering more. The paintings on these walls are older than the other ones, dating back generations and generations. Stiles had once explained his fascination with Scott, who had nodded and pushed Isaac towards him. They ended up talking about the castle and it’s foundation for nearly an hour.

He makes his way down the hallways, watching as the empty knight armor turn their heads on him. He does not really understand why they watch him so closely, but he chooses to ignore it. Sighing, he continues on, walking into the South Wing. He hears slight sounds coming from one of the rooms, and upon further inspection, it sounds like a beautiful melody. Stiles walks closer, the sound of a piano becoming evident in his ears. He peeks into the room, hiding his body behind the door, and sees Derek sitting at an elegant white piano, his face contorted into concentration as his hands glide across the keys.

“So this is where you hide?” Stiles asks as Derek’s hands come to a halt. 

Derek freezes, sitting straight up while looking over at Stiles. With a deep breath, he replies, “Among other places.”

Stiles nods his head, “That was very nice. Do you play often?” 

Derek inhales sharply, “I used to. Not so much anymore. It is my escape.” He strokes the keys, emitting high and low sounds.

“Why do you need to escape?” Stiles asks, moving closer towards Derek from inside the door. 

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Derek asks angrily, fully turning to look at Stiles. At the boy’s taken aback look, he sighs, answering, “To forget.”

“What are you trying to forget?” Stiles asks, and with Derek’s sharp glare turning on him again, he adds, “Sorry.”

The man sighs, turning away and deeply inhaling and exhaling. He does not want to think of the past. He has been reminded of it deeply in the last few days. The rose continues to wilt away more, and there are only a couple of petals left. Avoiding the boy was probably not the best idea when he was trying to woo him, but seeing Stiles’s look on his face, like he was genuinely frightened, caused Derek himself to become frightened. He knows he has a couple issues, but saving Stiles in the woods caused him to have an open mind, and hope that he could get the boy to fall in love with him. 

It is not just lingering attraction with Derek, he fully thinks that Stiles is beautiful, and he knows that he is already falling. Their altercations have not exactly been pleasant, but Stiles is kind, and he does not seem to be scared anymore.

Instead of answering Stiles’s question, Derek deflects, “What happened to you being afraid of me?” 

Stiles steps back, “I was never afraid of you.” 

It is a lie, Stiles knows that and Derek does too. “You are lying. I can hear your heartbeat stutter.”

“W-what? You can h-hear my heartbeat? How?” Stiles asks, shocked. 

Derek sighs again, glancing over at Stiles, “I am a werewolf.”

He does not know why he is admitting all of these things to Stiles. He should not be. If Isaac were to find out, he would be furious. But he feels that pull towards Stiles, and he feels as though he should not lie to the boy. 

“I have read about those before.” Stiles relays, stepping closer. He walks to the front of the white piano, lighting touching it and feeling the coolness under his fingers. “Only, they change on the full moon. Is that true?”

“Partly. I can change as I please.” Derek says, and then bites his tongue. “It is stronger on the full moon, and we become more. . .uh. . .passionate.”

Stiles nods and feeling bold, he asks, “Do all werewolves have. . .uh - um. . .scars on their faces?” 

Derek tenses, his expression darkening, “No.” 

Stiles’s heart races, and Derek hears it thumping in his ears. Changing the subject for now, Stiles asks, “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I think I should ask you that.” 

“I am not the one who has been hiding away! You do not show up for any meal, and I have not seen you in nearly a week.” Stiles exclaims. 

Derek raises his eyebrows, “You have become bold.”

“I am not the only one.” 

The man looks down at the keys, a frown on his face. “I can do what I wish. It is my castle.” 

“Hiding away is your forte then?” Stiles asks, a slight smirk on his face. He is slightly aware that he could potentially get his face mauled off, but he keeps going anyway.

“Why must you keep pestering with questions?” Derek asks, rubbing his eyes. One of his fingers runs down the path of a scar, and he feels eyes on him.

“Why won’t you answer them?” Stiles retaliates, leaning against the piano. Derek leans back, an eyebrow raised. Stiles gently grins, “Why did you catch me when I fell?”

“Was I supposed to let you fall to imminent death? You think so low of me.” Derek says.

“You mistake my meaning.” 

“You mistake my kindness.” Derek is vaguely aware that it his answer is not gaining him any favors, but he finds that he likes winding Stiles up. 

Stiles sighs as he leans against the piano once more. He is trying to get to know Derek, but the man is awfully stubborn and making it hard. Stiles takes a step forward, “Why did you catch me?”

Derek inhales deeply, “I was not going to let you die, Stiles.”

“But how did you get over there so fast!” He says, walking to the other side of the piano to where he is face to face with Derek. There is a glass full of wine sitting on the piano, and Stiles stays clear of it in the hopes he won’t knock it down.

“I am a werewolf. I move quickly.” Derek elaborates, watching Stiles carefully. The boy is moving closer towards him, and Derek does not want him to. If he gets too close, Derek’s restraint is going to be physically tested. He inhales roughly as Stiles comes even closer. Derek knows he finds the boy very attractive and beautiful, and a person with animal instincts like him need to be cautious around beautiful and attractive people.

“But how did you know I was going to fall - “ Stiles starts, but trips over the leg of the bench Derek is sitting on and ends up being caught once again by the said man. His arms flail, however, and he hits the wine glass, it toppling over and splashing wine all over the back and side of Derek’s white dress shirt. They share eye contact, both breathing heavily. Derek is memorized by those eyes, and he finds himself unconsciously leaning forward. 

Stiles watches as Derek leans in, frozen in place until he feels the coolness of the wine around his fingers. He flails backward, looking at Derek intensely, “Oh, I-I am so sorry! I did not m-mean to do. . .that.” 

He trails off as Derek pulls the shirt over his head, revealing his gorgeous tanned torso. Stiles’s heart lunges into his throat, and he gulps as he is met with the chest he has been longing to see and can’t stop thinking about. He looks down, his cheeks staining crimson. 

Derek thumbs the shirt in his hand, slightly smiling at the reaction his body has gotten out of Stiles. He is not trying to seduce Stiles, and he genuinely wants him to fall for him because of him, but having a nice body like he does is a perk.

“Come along, Stiles. I need to change my shirt, and you need to wash up before dinner.” Derek says, a light smirk on his feature. Stiles nods, eyes still cast down, afraid to look at Derek and have everything revealed, as he walks past the man and out of the South Wing.

-

Stiles feels as though he is losing his mind. He does not know how he feels about Derek, but it is definitely not how he started. Their conversation revealed what Stiles knew all along, that Derek was a kind and compassionate being. He does not know the outcome of this, but he thinks that this is what it is like to feel an attraction somebody. Stiles is attracted to Derek, and he knows that there is no denying it now, but he still wants to know everything about him.

Derek, on the other hand, is ecstatic. He finally has hope that Stiles will love him based on his reaction. He himself already feels like he is falling, and knows that it’s a deep and fast plunge. He wants to know Stiles more, and wants to get him to feel the love Derek is developing for him. When he saved Stiles from the wolves and falling to his death, it ignited something in Derek, something that cannot be ignored. There is no denying that he is beginning to love Stiles, but he has to up his affections if he wants the latter to love him back. 

Unfortunately, he does not even know where to begin.

-

He stands on the outside balcony a couple days later, watching as Stiles catches snowflakes in his hands. Winter has set in, and the coldness is affecting everyone in the castle differently. Derek thinks that the welcomed weather reflects his mood, and how the whiteness of the snow shows the innocence bestowed upon him by Stiles. Stiles thinks that the weather represents how beauty can be found even in the coldest places. Mrs. Allison thinks the weather can do everyone some good as they sit around the fire. Isaac thinks that winter is irrelevant to the world and is already talking about spring. Scott just thinks it’s cold.

Nevertheless, winter has come and caused a bone cold shiver to emit from everyone in the Grand Castle. This is the first time in the span of four days that they have even set foot outside due to the snow falling too heavily and the wind causing unbearable coldness. Animals are all in hibernation, so Derek allowed Stiles to come outside since there would not be a chance of Stiles getting attacked by an animal. It was the first day that it hadn’t been snowing nonstop, so it was a good idea to get out of the castle.

The past four days revealed a lot of insight for both Stiles and Derek. Stiles knows certain things about Derek now, such as that he is afraid of heights, his favorite color is purple, and he had two sisters named Laura and Cora who died. Derek now knows that Stiles loves to read, has never left the confines of Beacon Hills, and he likes all the colors because he thinks they are all equally pretty. 

They both have been memorized by the feel of the other, lost in their endless conversations that last until dawn. It is nice to finally have someone to level with, to have someone that does not look at you like you are odd, are flinch at your appearance. It is not just dwindling attraction now, they both know that. Stiles is quickly falling for his captor, and Derek is already there. He has never felt this way about anyone before, which he expresses to Scott, who is standing on the balcony with him.

“I do not know, Scott. It is as though I have been living my life without a clear view of the world, and then he came along. There was a part of me that was missing after the fire, and he has filled it.” Derek dwells, leaning against the balcony and smiling lightly as Stiles catches a snowflake in his mouth.

“When did you become such a sap, master! That is lovely! Are you going to ask him to marry you?” Scott exclaims excitedly, the candelabra hopping up and down.

“Well, I do not think we should move that quickly, but yes, asking Stiles to marry me is in the near future.” Derek replies, slightly chuckling. 

“I have never seen you so happy, sir. I am glad you have found someone.” Mrs. Allison says, hopping out into the balcony with Liam in tow. 

Derek adjusts his cloak to make room for her, “Thank you, Mrs. Allison. I wish to do something for him, to show him how much he means to me.” The prince says, looking to Scott. Isaac comes out also, a blanket wrapped around his clock figure so his wood does not get wet, and kisses Scott on his wax. 

Scott smiles at Isaac’s affection, replying, “Well there is the essentials. You could retrieve some flowers - “

“It is winter, Scott.” Mrs. Allison relays, looking expectantly at him.

“Well, yes. I suppose you could get his some chocolate - “

“That is not meaningful!” Mrs. Allison replies, chuckling at him.

“Well I give up! I do not know what to give someone. I gave Isaac flowers and he immediately kissed me.”

“That is because you men already had relations going on, Scott.” Mrs. Allison elaborates, laughing.

“Well! Spell it out for me! I am not a magnificent author who has written books about these things - “ Scott begins, only to be cut off by Derek.

“Books!” He exclaims, an idea forming in his head. He knows what he is going to give Stiles, but he can only hope that he likes it. Glancing down again, he sees Stiles still catching the snowflakes, and knows that his gift is going to please Stiles.

Derek quickly rushes downstairs, the enchanted objects following him as he walks outside to Stiles. The boy turns to him, grinning. “Hello.”

“Hello, Stiles. I want to show you something inside.” Derek says, ushering Stiles back inside of the castle. He is suddenly filled with nerves, afraid Stiles will think that he is trying to hard to win his affections. Derek thinks that he could always try harder, but he does not wish to scare Stiles with his efforts for they can become extreme. 

“What do you want to show me?” Stiles asks, walking with Derek as he rids himself of his cloak. The coatrack follows after them, and Stiles smiles as he hangs it on the peg. Derek follows suit, taking his cloak off and hanging it too. 

“It is a surprise. Follow me.” 

They make their way towards the South Wing, walking past the room with the piano and into a large hallway. Stiles has not been back in this area, and finds the light fixtures and the heirlooms fascinating. It is quiet in the hallway, the only sound is Stiles’s thumping heart roaring in Derek’s ears. They come up to a corner with glass doors, and Derek turns to him.

“Close your eyes.” 

Stiles does as he is told, closing his eyes. Derek can not help but feel happy at the notion. Seeing Stiles trust him enough to simply be cut off from the environment around him makes Derek’s heart constrict.

Derek walks forwards towards Stiles, tentatively bringing his hand up to gently grab at his shoulder. Stiles feels the warm hand near his neck and allows Derek to guide him forward. His arm gently brushes up against the doorknob as they walk into the room. They continue their pace, walking slowly to the middle of the room. Derek turns Stiles around, and gently whispers in his ear, “Open your eyes.”

Stiles obliges, opening his eyes and immediately smiling. There are lines and lines of shelves full of books, and Stiles runs over to one of the shelves, yanking a book off of it. It causes a couple to also spring out, and he emits a small ‘oops’ as he opens it up. Leaving all of his books back in the cottage really upset Stiles, and he would of brought them with him had he known that he would be staying in the place he found his father. He really missed reading his books, and he longed to feel the leather against his hands and breathe in the earthy scent of the pages. 

“Do you like it?” Derek asks, breaking Stiles from his actions. 

He turns to Derek, smiling widely, “I love it! There are more books in here than I have seen in my life! How did I not find this before?” 

“I am glad you like it. It is yours now.” 

“W-What? Really? You are giving me an entire library?” Stiles questions excitedly, feeling like a small child in a candy shop. No one has ever been so kind to Stiles before, besides his father, but this kind of kindness is different. Stile feels deeply towards Derek, and knows that he is coming to love him in the short span of time he has come to know him. Derek being so thoughtful and listening to Stiles when he told him that he likes to read has done something to Stiles, and he knows he is only falling more and more deeply for Derek.

“Yes. I do not really use it, not matter how much I like to read as well.” Derek responds, a blush on his cheeks. He is happy about the reaction he has gotten out of Stiles, and knows that his gift was a success.

Stiles smiles at him, “Thank you, Derek.” He walks closer to him, the book in hand, and grabs his hand. “Would you like to read with me?” 

Derek nods and Stiles smiles. Before they move however, Stiles’s smiles falls, and he steps closer to the man. Deciding to be brave, he leans in, brushing his lips over the path of scars on Derek’s face, and kisses his cheek. Stiles pulls back, a deep blush on his own cheeks, and rushes away, going to sit in one of the many chairs. 

Derek smiles, gasping slightly as he runs his fingers over his cheek Stiles’s lips touched. He follows after Stiles, going to sit by him as they launch into their book. 

The enchanted objects stand in the doorway, watching the two read together. Mrs. Allison looks as though she is going to burst from happiness, and Scott and Isaac stand behind her, smiling and laughing quietly. 

"Who would have thought they would come together on their own!” Mrs. Allison exclaims, turning to Scott and Isaac.

“We are going to be human again!” They shout, watching Stiles and Derek read as they dance together in the hall.

-

Derek and Stiles sit on the chairs in the library, enjoying the presence of each other as Stiles reads the book aloud. Derek watches Stiles as he reads, enthralled in Stiles’s voice. He loves how into the book Stiles is getting, and loves hearing him read with such passion. He realizes suddenly that he should confess his love to Stiles. He needs to know how the boy feels about him, and admitting out loud how Derek loves Stiles could lure an answer from the boy. 

“Stiles?” 

The said boy looks up from his book at Derek, who is filled with nerves again. “Are you happy here?”

Hesitantly, Stiles answers, “Well, yes.” But something is off. His smiles has dropped, and he gazes out of the window and watches as the slight snowflakes fall across the window, causing it to frost. 

“What it is?” Derek asks, moving closer to the boy. 

Desperately, Stiles replies, “I just wish I could see my father. Only for a moment. I miss him dearly.” 

Grabbing the boy’s hand, Derek says, “There is a way.”

Stiles looks at him questioningly, but Derek just motions for him to follow as he walks out of the library. They exit, looking to the the enchanted objects as they pass. They adjourn to the West Wing, which makes Stiles’s heart beat faster as memories overcome him. He does not wish to be in the area, and Derek must know too because he tightens his grip on Stiles’s hand, comforting him.

Walking to the table with the glass entrapment with the rose, Derek picks up a hand held mirror, presenting it to Stiles, “This mirror will show you anything. Just ask, and it will show anything you wish to see.”

Hesitantly, Stiles takes the mirror, “I would like to see my father, please.”

A bright light emits from the mirror, and Stiles gasps in shock as an image becomes clear on the glass. His gasp turns to horror, however, when he sees his father sitting up against a wall in a straight jacket. Stiles knows exactly where he is. 

“Father! He is in that asylum! Oh, no.” Stiles exclaims, his body suddenly becoming weak. He feels as though he is going to cry, and tears spring in his eyes.

Derek turns and looks to the rose, watching as another petal falls. “Then. . .then you must go to him.”

“W-what?”

“I release you. You are no longer prisoner here.” Derek replies, his voice strained. He does not want to let the man he loves go, but this matter is more important. 

Questioningly, Stiles asks, “Y-You mean I can go?”

“Again with the questions?” Derek says, trying to lighten the mood and failing. “Yes, Stiles. You are free to go.”

“W-w. . .th-thank you.” He replies, glancing at the magic mirror. He turns to leave, but then turns back around and pushes the mirror in the direction of Derek. 

“Take it with you, so you will always have a way to look back, to remember me.” Derek says, desperately trying not to break down. He knows Stiles needs to go see his father, to help him, but it does not make the situation any less painful.

“Thank you for understanding.” Stiles replies, hugging the mirror to his chest. Derek looks down, feeling his heart break in two. He does not know how it escalated from him about to reveal his feelings to Stiles suddenly leaving. He feels a soft hand touch his cheek, and watches as Stiles leans forward and kisses his cheek. Without saying anything else, Stiles rushes out of the room, almost knocking over Scott and Isaac in the process. 

“My, my! Always in such a rush!” Isaac says, wiping invisible dust off his wood. “Well, your highness, I must say you two look lovely together. I knew you had it in you.”

Dejected, Derek responds, “I let him go.”

“What? Why?” Scott asks, rushing over to his master.

“I had to.” Derek answers, moving to stare at the rose.

“Yes, but why, master?” Isaac asks, looking at his lover with concern. Scott returns the look, not knowing how to comfort his master.

“Because I love him.” Derek says, moving to the other side of the table. “Now, please. Leave me alone.” 

Scott and Isaac look to each other, backing out of the room as there master breaks down, sitting beneath the table and gazing out the window, lost is his mind.

The two make their ways down to the kitchen, the hard silence between them cutting into their heads. How could such a couple be broken apart like this? They need to tell the rest of the enchanted objects. Walking towards the kitchen, they hear the entrance to the castle door slam shut, and it causes them to jump as they realize it was Stiles. Entering the kitchen, they face Mrs. Allison and the rest of the objects, sighing deeply. 

“Stiles has left.” Isaac says, earning the attention of all the servants.

“He what?” Mrs, Allison says, shocked.

“I am afraid it is true.”

“Stiles has gone away?” A little voice speaks up, and Isaac looks over to see Liam, who has an upset look on his face.

“And he was so close.” Scott supplies. He longs to be human again, and he knows that the master and Stiles being together would of broken that, but seeing the two together was like fitting to pieces of a puzzle in place. They were meant for each other, and it is sad to think of how depressing their love story is know.

“After all this time, he has finally learned to love.” Mrs. Allison says, gazing down.

“So that is it then? That should break the spell?” A kitchen utensil speaks up.

“But it is not enough. He has to love him back.” Scott says, glancing out the window. 

“And now it is too late.”

-

Stiles runs towards the cottage, bursting through the door, and setting down the magic mirror on the table. It is almost sunup now, and Stiles feels as though he has been running all night. He is exhausted and his feet are on fire, but he has more pressing issues to attend to now. He cannot stop thinking about Derek and his choice to let him leave, and keeps thinking about his father locked away in the asylum. He does not have a plan to get his father out of the asylum, but he has to try.

“Poor Stiles. It is a shame about your father.” He hears. He turns around and scoffs when he sees Monsieur Raeken in the doorway of his cottage.

“I know it was you who put him in there. You know he is not crazy, Raeken.” Stiles responds, his voice sounding like venom.

“Well. . . I might be able to clear up this little uh, misunderstanding if. . .” Raeken trails off, smirking at Stiles.

“If what.” Stiles asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“If you marry me.” Raeken finishes, his smirk taking up half his face. 

“Never!” Stiles shouts.

“Have it your way, Stiles.” Raeken says, shrugging his shoulders as he moves to walk out of the house. Stiles picks up the mirror, ready to brain Raeken with it if he does not let his father go, when an idea come to his head. He follows Raeken out of the cottage, and steps back as he sees a crowd of people. They are yelling at Stiles to lock up his father for good, saying that there little odd family destroyed the town. Raeken smirks, leaning against Josh. 

“Your father is a nut job!” Someone yells, and Stiles has had enough.

“My father is not crazy! I can prove it!” He yells, bringing up the magic mirror to show the crowd. “Show me Derek!”

The mirror emits the bright light again, and on the reflection of the mirror is Derek, looking depressed as he sits on the ground. Stiles feels a wave of sadness hit him, and he stares at Derek with despair. 

The crowd around him gasp in horror, shouting profanity. “Is he dangerous?” One woman yells.

Stiles looks up, a small grin on his face and reassuringly says, “Of course not! He would never hurt anyone. Please, I know how he looks, with his viciousness and scars, he is really kind and gentle. He is my friend.” 

“If I did not know any better, I would say you have some sort of feeling for this monster!” Raeken shouts, earning a chorus of agreement from the crowd.

“And if I do? He is not a monster, Raeken, you are!” Stiles yells.

“He is as crazy as the old man!” Raeken yells, walking over to Stiles and grabbing the mirror, pushing him back slightly. “This beast will come after your children! He will take them while you sleep!”

The crowd erupts in shouting, and Stiles yells, “No! He would never do that!”

“We are not safe until his head is mounted on my wall! I say we kill the beast!” Raeken exclaims, earning agreement from the crowd. 

“We are not safe until he is dead!” A man yells as people agree.

“He will come stalking us at night!” Another man yells.

“He will sacrifice our children!”A woman yells, and the crowd erupts again.

“It is time we take action! It is time to follow me!” Raeken shouts, amping the crowd once more. He grabs a torch from one of the villagers, throwing it into a stack of hay causing to light up in flames as it creates an instant bonfire.

“No! I will not let you do this!” Stiles interjects. 

“If you are not with us, you are against us. Bring the old man!” Raeken yells. The crowd splits as McCall drags John forward. 

“Get your hands off me!” John yells. McCall laughs and throws him towards Stiles. 

“Father!” Stiles exclaims, sighing toward him.

“Stiles! I did not think I would ever see you again, my boy.” John says, stroking Stiles’s cheek.

“Come on, father! We must warn Derek before they attack! This is all my fault.” Stiles says, ushering his father towards the woods. 

“We are going to rid this town of the beast! Who is with me!” Raeken exclaims once more. 

The crowd agrees, yelling “Kill the beast!” 

“Follow me!” Raeken yells, running around the forest to a path towards the beast’s castle, the crowd fooling behind them as they march to their attack. 

Back at the castle, the enchanted objects talk about the predicament, unaware of a mob heading there way.

“I knew it. I knew it was a risk to get our hopes up.” Isaac says sighing as he sits at the top of the stairs with Scott and Mrs. Allison.

“Do not say that, my love! He could come back!” Scott says, trying to lighten the mood. He grew quite fond of Stiles, and he is very upset with his abrupt departure.

Suddenly, they hear knocking at the door, and everyone immediately perks up, thinking that it could be Stiles. “Could it be him?”

“Is it him?” Mrs. Allison asks.

The mahogany door bursts open, revealing a mob of people storming in as their leader looks around the castle. 

“Invaders!” Scott exclaims.

“Encroachers!” Isaac yells. 

Mrs. Allison looks at the leader, noticing the mirror in his hand, “And they have the mirror!”

“Warn the master. If it is is a fight they want, a fight they will get.” Scott says, and Mrs. Allison runs away to warn the master.

From down at the entrance, Raeken issues his own orders, “Take whatever treasure you can find, but remember, the beast is mine!” 

The crowd disperses, walking into rooms and running down hallways. The enchanted objects attack, poking and prodding and locking people out of rooms. Mrs. Allison runs towards the West Wing, but is grabbed by a person. Scott catches up, lighting up his candle as burning the man, causing him to scream and drop Mrs. Allison. 

“Thank you, Scott.” Mrs. Allison shouts, rushing away and bursting through the doors of the West Wing. Derek is sitting by the rose, watching forlornly as it wilts away even more.  
“Pardon me, master.” Mrs, Allison speaks up, letting her presence known. 

“Let me be.” Comes Derek’s reply as he sighs deeply.

“But sir, the castle is under attack!” Mrs. Allison yells. Derek glances out the doors, seeing Scott, a couple of knives and a feather duster fight off two men.  
Turning back to Mrs. Allison, he says, “It does not matter now. Let them come.” 

Suddenly, Raeken bursts through the doors, and Mrs. Allison gasps as he marches up to the beast. His people downstairs have all been chased off by the objects, but Raeken refuses to leave here without a fight. Derek looks up at him, and then back down, which causes Raeken to shake angrily. He takes his bow in his hand, aiming at the beast and releasing an arrow that lands in Derek’s shoulder. Derek grunts in pain, standing up as he pulls the arrow out of his shoulder. Raeken lunges at Derek dropping his bow and causing Derek to stumble back as he bursts through the balcony outside. Derek is immediately covered in snow, and sits where he landed will solemnly looking down. 

“What is the matter beast! Too kind and gentle to fight?” Raeken scoffs. “Get up!”

Derek continues to ignore him, which only makes Raeken angrier. He walks over to the castle roof, breaking off a piece of falling stone. Suddenly, Stiles appears, watching the encounter as his father leans against him, out of breathe. It seems as though they are too late. 

“Stop! Raeken, stop!” He shouts. Turning to his father, he says, “I have to help him.”

“Go, but please be careful.” John says, kissing Stiles on the forehead. Stiles nods at him, turning away and sprinting towards the entrance. He enters the castle, running up the stairs. He passes Scott and Isaac on his way, and watches as they dance with glee at chasing out the invaders. 

“Monsieur Stiles!” Scott yells, but Stiles keeps running. He approaches the West Wing and enters, watching as Raeken walks closer to Derek, who has his head down. Raeken is holding a piece of stone in his hand, and looks as though he is going to smash it over Derek’s head.

“Derek!” Stiles shouts, causing the men to look over at him. Raeken smirks at him, and Derek is looking at him with a shocked expression. 

“Stiles?” Derek says.

“Oh, Stiles. Come to see your future husband slay the beast?” Raeken asks.

“Future husband?” Derek mutters, his eyes beginning to bleed red as he glares at Raeken.

“Raeken, don’t!” Stiles shouts as Raeken turns away from him, going to swing the stone.

Derek catches his arm, standing up as he glances at Stiles. Derek snarls at Raeken, causing the man to flinch. Derek punches Raeken in the stomach, launching them both into a fight. Raeken smashes the stone in Derek’s side, causing him to groan in pain. He shoves Raeken back as he looks to Stiles.

“Were you in love with him, beast? Did you honestly think he’d want you when he has someone like me?” Raeken asks, laughing. “Pathetic.”

Derek tackles him, pushing him in the face. His claws scrape against his skin, and Raeken shouts in pain. “It is over, beast! Stiles is mine!” 

Derek scoffs, picking up Raeken by the neck and pulling him towards the edge of the balcony, and holds him over the edge, his feet barely touching the ground. “No, please. Put me down. I will do anything!”

Derek’s expression softens from his angry one, and not for the first time, he thinks that Stiles has made him soft. He pulls the man back onto the balcony completely, yelling, “Get out.”  
He shoves Raeken on the ground, moving around him towards Stiles. “Stiles!”

“Derek!” Stiles yells back, rushing towards him. “Are you alright? Are you okay?”

“You came back.” Derek says, stroking his cheek. They stare into each other’s eyes. Stiles sees nothing but love in Derek’s eyes as they lock gazes. Suddenly, Raeken appears, stabbing the beast in the back with a sharp stone. He laughs as Derek hisses in pain.

“You know Stiles, I am shocked at you. I do not understand this romance. How can you love this. . .creature when you know what he is, what he has done?” Raeken says, moving behind Derek to stab him again.

“Please, Reaken. He saved my life. I look past his appearance. Past the scars, past the red eyes. What really matters is his heart. And I love him anyway.” Stiles replies, watching Derek. Derek looks up to him, shocked at his words. His face contorts in pain again, feeling the full effect of his wound. He does not think this one is healing quick enough, and he knows he cannot last much longer. 

“Oh, please Stiles. What I am trying to wrap my egomaniac head around is how you can choose him. A monster. Because that is what he is. And deep down, you already know that.”  
Stiles glares a Raeken, “No. You are wrong. He is sweet and kind. How could he be a monster? He is the man I love.” 

Derek looks up at Stiles, and filled with sudden rage, he stands, pushing Raeken behind him and knocking him over off his balance. He pushes him over the edge of the balcony, promptly making Raeken fall to his death. Derek falls against the stone railing, breathing heavily. Stiles grabs at him, pulling him away from the edge and pushing him back inside. Derek collapses when he reaches the doors, falling down. The objects come rushing in, and upon seeing Stiles, they stay by the door, watching their encounter.

“You came back.” Derek pants, watching as Stiles slightly chuckles. 

“Of course I came back. I could not let him. . .this is all my fault. If only I could have come sooner!” Stiles exclaims, his eyes beginning to well with tears. 

“Perhaps it is better this way.” Derek says, his hand reaching up to wipe a tear away and cup Stiles’s cheek.

“Do not talk like that. You will be alright. We are together now. Everything is going to be fine. You will see.” Stiles pleads. He does not know who he is trying to convince more, himself or Derek. He now knows how he feels about Derek, knows that he is in love with him, but this cannot just end before it starts. Derek cannot leave Stiles. Not now.

“At least I. . .” Derek starts, coughing. “. . .got to see you. . .one last time.” 

Derek coughs again, his hand dropping from Stiles’s cheek as his head falls back. Stiles whimpers, “No. No! Please! Please, don’t leave me! I love you!”

The objects watch as Stiles buries his face in Derek’s chest. The last petal off the rose falls, and they all look down at the floor. Their master is dead, and there is nothing they can do about it. Isaac puts his arm around Scott, who sniffles. 

The snow falls outside, it’s dark and coldness sweeping over them and for a moment it seems peaceful. A beam of light streams upon Stiles and Derek as Stiles continues crying. Another one illuminates Derek’s face, and a different one burns at Stiles’s arm. Stiles looks up, finally noticing what has happened. He backs away, frightened at the way the light envelopes him. Fog begins to envelop Derek’s form as Stiles sits on the ground, tears streaming down his face. Derek rises up into the air, still undisturbed as the fog encloses him more. It is hard to see what is happening, and Stiles is frozen in place. Derek’s cloak is suddenly enclosed around him, and the fog begins to glow. 

Derek’s appearance stats to change then. His hair swoops over his face, covering his eyes. The scars on his face seemingly melt away, and soft, smooth tanned skin replaces it. Derek’s canine’s extend and then descend, and the extra hair around his body evaporates. His body descends once more, coming to rest back down where Derek previously laid. 

The fog quickly disappears, and Stiles crawls closer, reaching out to touch the man but quickly jerks back when the figure begins to move. He stands, closing the cloak around him and looking around, like he is confused. Suddenly, his eyes stop on Stiles, and the eyes he loves so much stare back at him. 

“Stiles.” The figure says, walking closer. Stiles backs up.

“W-what.” Stiles gasps, running into the outside doors. 

“It is me, my love. it is Derek.” The figure assures, moving closer. 

Stiles gasps, his eyes welling with tears once more. “Derek!” He rushes over to him, hugging him close. Derek’s hands slip around his waist, and they stand in each other’s embrace. The objects watch on, smiling. “Oh, Derek. I thought - “ 

“I am here Stiles. I am here.” Derek comforts, pulling back and gazing into Stiles’s eyes. He leans forward, his hand coming up to cup Stiles’s cheek as he connects their lips. Electricity flows through both of their bodies as they kiss, neither wanting to break the contact. The darkness surrounding the castle disappears, and a blue sky shine through, making the white snow even brighter. 

“Your scars! They are gone! How - “ Stiles starts, but is caught off by Derek kissing him again. 

They continue to kiss on the balcony, enjoying the taste of each other, only interrupted by a scream. They pull apart to see the enchanted objects, only they are not so enchanted anymore. Scott comes out first, and the bright fog surrounds him as he transforms into a hum again. He is tan also, with dark hair and an uneven jawline. 

Isaac is next. His human form is tall, which is ironic since he was a clock for almost ten years, and he has dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Mrs. Allison is a beautiful young woman, with short brunette hair and a skinny body. 

“Scott, Isaac, Allison! Look at us!” Derek says, going to spin Allison as she giggles. He walks back over to Stiles, kissing him again. 

“Is everyone in this castle attractive?” Stiles murmurs, overwhelmed at being surrounded by four beautiful people. Derek chuckles, looking up as Liam and the footstool come in. 

Liam is a beautiful little boy, with chestnut hair and bright eyes. Allison zooms forward, picking up her son, exclaiming, “Oh my goodness!”

“It is a miracle!” Scott says, walking to his lover and kissing him. They enclose around each other, deprived of the closeness for nearly ten years. Stiles laughs at them, smiling at his two friends. 

Allison comes forward towards them, saying “Master, Monsieur Stiles, I am very happy for the both of you.” 

“Thank you, Allison.” They reply, hugging each other. Derek looks to Stiles once more, kissing him on the lips. It is time to live happily ever after, and Derek plans to do it with Stiles at his side. 

-

The wedding is spectacular. The whole kingdom of California was invited, and they were coronated on that same day with Derek taking his place as king and Stiles as queen. They had a long talk before hand after Derek had proposed to Stiles about whether the royal life was something Stiles really wanted, to which Stiles had assured him that he wanted to be with Derek forever, and that ruling the kingdom with him would make him just as ecstatic. 

Stiles’s father could not be prouder of him, and after he met Derek under the right circumstances and gave his blessing for the marriage, they got along very well. All of the servants in the Grand Castle loved having Stiles around, and not many things changed leading up to their wedding. Like expected, Stiles and Scott were practically attached at the hip, and were always roaming around the castle together. Sometimes, Isaac liked to tag along, and sometimes he downright pulled Scott away so they could spend some time together, so it was a pretty balanced relationship. 

Everything was great in the castle, and after their night of passion shared on the night of the wedding, Stiles and Derek lay in bed, sweaty and satisfied. Stiles curled up to Derek, hearing his heartbeat.

“Are you sure this is what you want, my love? Living in a castle with all of these people, with me?” Derek’s chest rumbles, and Stiles can’t help but smile.

He thinks back to when he first entered the castle, not knowing how drastic his life would change upon arrival. He would not change the events that happened, even though they are quite preposterous. He is now married to the man he loves, and is Queen of California. He tore down the beast’s stone walls around his heart and broke the curse holding all of the citizens of the castle hostage. Stiles knows his life has changed for the better, and he decides that he would not have it any other way.

“I am sure, Derek.” Stiles replies, snuggling deeper into his husband’s chest.

That causes a smile to break out on Derek’s face, and he sighs happily, knowing his lover means every word.

**Author's Note:**

> Making a bed in the olden days shows characteristics of being in a strong relationship, so yeah. Also, the ending is a little rushed, but I wanted to wrap it up because this is so long. 
> 
> Stiles being referenced as a queen is in no way saying that he is a girl. But I do what I want. 
> 
> Come say hi to me on tumblr! [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/zaynsgirl3000)


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